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19

MARIANA

I stood in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection for what felt like hours.

My hands were trembling, and no matter how much I tried to steady them, the nerves wouldn't go away.

The invitation sat on the small dresser behind me, its words repeating in my mind like a warning: 8 PM. The address is below.

It was 7:45.

I had no idea what I was doing.

I should have stayed home.

I knew that.

Every instinct I had told me not to go, to throw the card away and forget Amir ever came into my life.

He was dangerous—he had to be. 

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