I glanced at him. Even though we were standing close, he felt miles away. It was our reception... our reception. I could hear the whispers and murmurs of the guests buzzing around us, but all I could see was the blank, almost sad look on his face. He didn't even try to smile, not even a little fake one for the cameras. He didn't bother to pretend. Just stood there, stiff and distant, like a statue.
My hand wasn't tucked into his, wasn't even touching his arm. He'd made it clear – he'd actually told me not to touch him at all. It hurts. I know it shouldn't be, but It felt like a punch to the gut.
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