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"I'm sorry, Mariya," I murmur, the guilt evident in my voice. "We can always renew our vows, and you can still have your big day."

"It won't be the same," she mutters, the sadness in her tone taking one hell of a swing at my heart. Reaching for her hand, I give it a squeeze. "I'll make it up

to you." When she doesn't respond, I silently vow to give her the

wedding of her dreams once we reach the six-month mark.

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