Touch

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“I want you to touch me,” she whispered so softly that she thought he didn’t hear her.

“No. I can’t. I am not the one for you,” he looked at her with dead serious eyes.

She was in so much pain and all she wanted was for him to touch her, hold her and squeeze her tiny body into his arms. She wanted to feel his chest and listen to his heartbeat — to find out whether or not he really didn’t care about her anymore. She wanted him to pick up all the remaining pieces of her broken heart and put it all back together.

Yet he couldn’t. He didn’t want to ever touch her, not in a million years, not even in a parallel universe. He didn’t want to ever lay another finger on her because he knew that the moment he did, she’d crumble down all the more until there was nothing left of her.

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