โฆ โฆ โฆ
๐ ๐๐ก๐ฌ๐๐ฎ๐จ ๐ฉ๐๐ค๐ช๐๐๐ฉ ๐ข๐ฎ ๐ฌ๐๐๐๐๐ฃ๐ ๐๐๐ฎ ๐ฌ๐ค๐ช๐ก๐ ๐๐ ๐ฉ๐๐ ๐๐๐ฅ๐ฅ๐๐๐จ๐ฉ ๐๐๐ฎ ๐ค๐ ๐ข๐ฎ ๐ก๐๐๐.
๐ ๐ธ๐ข๐ด ๐ธ๐ณ๐ฐ๐ฏ๐จ.
๐๐ฆ๐ค๐ข๐ถ๐ด๐ฆ ๐ช๐ต ๐ธ๐ข๐ด๐ฏโ๐ต ๐ฎ๐บ ๐ค๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ช๐ค๐ฆ. ๐ ๐ธ๐ข๐ด ๐ง๐ฐ๐ณ๐ค๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ช๐ฏ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ข๐ฏ ๐ข๐ณ๐ณ๐ข๐ฏ๐จ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ฎ๐ข๐ณ๐ณ๐ช๐ข๐จ๐ฆ.
๐๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ข๐ฏ ๐๐ณ๐ท๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐๐ข๐ญ๐ญ๐ข๐จ๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ณ ๐ธ๐ข๐ด ๐ฎ๐บ ๐ค๐ฉ๐ช๐ญ๐ฅ๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ฐ๐ฅ ๐ฃ๐ฆ๐ด๐ต ๐ง๐ณ๐ช๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ฅ, ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ ๐ญ๐ฐ๐ท๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ฉ๐ช๐ฎ ๐ธ๐ช๐ต๐ฉ ๐ฎ๐บ ๐ธ๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ญ๐ฆ ๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ข๐ณ๐ต. ๐๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ฏ ๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ฆ ๐ฅ๐ข๐บ, ๐ธ๐ช๐ต๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ต ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ด๐ญ๐ช๐จ๐ฉ๐ต๐ฆ๐ด๐ต ๐ฆ๐น๐ฑ๐ญ๐ข๐ฏ๐ข๐ต๐ช๐ฐ๐ฏ, ๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ธ๐ข๐ด ๐ฎ๐บ ๐ต๐ฐ๐ณ๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ต๐ฐ๐ณ. ๐๐บ ๐ฃ๐ถ๐ญ๐ญ๐บ.
๐๐ค๐ฌ ๐๐โ๐จ ๐ข๐ฎ ๐๐ช๐จ๐๐๐ฃ๐.
๐๐ถ๐ต ๐โ๐ฎ ๐ด๐ต๐ข๐ณ๐ต๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ด๐ฆ๐ฆ ๐ค๐ณ๐ข๐ค๐ฌ๐ด ๐ช๐ฏ ๐ฉ๐ช๐ด ๐ค๐ฐ๐ญ๐ฅ ๐ง๐ขรง๐ข๐ฅ๐ฆ. ๐๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฃ๐ฐ๐บ ๐ ๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ค๐ฆ ๐ฌ๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ธ ๐ช๐ด ๐ด๐ต๐ช๐ญ๐ญ ๐ช๐ฏ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ฆ ๐ด๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ธ๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ฆ, ๐ต๐ณ๐ข๐ฑ๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ฃ๐ฆ๐ฉ๐ช๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ธ๐ข๐ญ๐ญ๐ด ๐๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ข๐ฏ ๐ฉ๐ข๐ด ๐ฃ๐ถ๐ช๐ญ๐ต ๐ข๐ณ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ฉ๐ช๐ด ๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ข๐ณ๐ต.
๐๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐โ๐ฎ ๐จ๐ฐ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ฃ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ข๐ฌ ๐ฅ๐ฐ๐ธ๐ฏ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ด๐ฆ ๐ธ๐ข๐ญ๐ญ๐ด, ๐ฃ๐ณ๐ช๐ค๐ฌ ๐ฃ๐บ ๐ฃ๐ณ๐ช๐ค๐ฌ.
๐๐ฆ๐ค๐ข๐ถ๐ด๐ฆ ๐ฆ๐ท๐ฆ๐ฏ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ถ๐จ๐ฉ ๐ฎ๐บ ๐ธ๐ฆ๐ฅ๐ฅ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ธ๐ข๐ด๐ฏโ๐ต ๐ธ๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐ ๐ธ๐ข๐ฏ๐ต๐ฆ๐ฅ, ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ฆโ๐ด ๐ฏ๐ฐ ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ข๐ด๐ฐ๐ฏ ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ณ ๐ฎ๐ข๐ณ๐ณ๐ช๐ข๐จ๐ฆ ๐ค๐ข๐ฏโ๐ต ๐ฃ๐ฆ ๐ฆ๐น๐ข๐ค๐ต๐ญ๐บ ๐ธ๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐ธ๐ฆ ๐ฃ๐ฐ๐ต๐ฉ ๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ฆ๐ฅ. ๐๐ง๐ต๐ฆ๐ณ ๐ข๐ญ๐ญ, ๐ธ๐ฆโ๐ณ๐ฆ ๐ช๐ฏ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ช๐ด ๐ต๐ฐ๐จ๐ฆ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ณ.
๐๐ค๐ง ๐๐๐ฉ๐ฉ๐๐ง ๐ค๐ง ๐ฌ๐ค๐ง๐จ๐โฆ
โฆ โฆ โฆ
โฆ โฆ โฆ
To Read the First Chapter Click HERE!
โฆ โฆ โฆ
โFuck it,โ I muttered, my voice barely audible, raised the covers, and in I went.
At first, I mirrored her posture, lying on my side without touching her. My pulse quickened, my mind coming up blank.
In, out. In, out.
The familiar repetition dissipated my anxiety. The longer I repeated it, the slower my heart beat. Soon, my breaths synchronized with those of Justine, our shoulders rising and falling in tandem. Only then did I move, draping my arm across her pink nightgown, sheathing her waist, scooting closer to her.
Hate would make you forget a lot of things. Itโd wipe out lazy afternoons of lying on the beach together. Itโd box and store away secret moments you glanced at the girl you loved while she gave imaginary classes to her dolls, while you were supposed to be reading finance articles. Itโd bury the time she caught you doing it and smiled at you as if she loved you too.
It could try to drown, by a small portion, the memory of how your love felt beneath your fingertips when you hugged her through days and nights, through tears and laughter in the intimate position youโd shared with no one ever since. It could try, but it would fail.
Because once reality kicked in, it didnโt stand a fucking chance.
โฆ โฆ โฆ

Shani Haim has been a romantic at heart for as long as she can remember.
One of her greatest passions has always been reading, and she devoured anything that swept her away to faraway places.
From reading she made the transition to writing, falling in love with her flawed, broken and full of soul characters one happily-ever-after at a time.
When she's not swooning over book boyfriends, she's practicing yoga, drinking unhealthy amount of coffee, or watching Netflix with her husband in their Tel Aviv home.
โฆ โฆ โฆ
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