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He’s not used to any of this. The softness, the fragility, the quietness, the...
Warmth. He can feel a strange sort of warmth, starting from the single point where her hand wraps around his finger.
After a long silence, he finally exhales through his nose and lifts his eyes toward the sleeping form of his wife. The warmth in his hand is.. Not unpleasant. Strange, but not unpleasant.
And then—for just the briefest of seconds—his lips twitch upward at the edges before he flattens them again into their usual stern line.

