"𝚈𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗."

*sequel to Lover* "𝖶𝗁𝗒 𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇'𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀?" 𝖦𝖾𝗈𝗋𝗀𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝗒 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗉 𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝖺, 𝖺 𝗀𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗄𝖾𝗒 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽. "𝖶𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗇'𝗍 𝖽𝗈 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖣𝖺𝗁𝗅𝗂𝖺. 𝖨 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗆𝖾."

"𝙷𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚍𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚔." "𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚡𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚎." "...𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚎'𝚍 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕𝚜. 𝙷𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗'𝚝."