It seems like a lifetime ago that I started this fic. I was in love with it first, but somewhere along the way my writing skills and story plotting started feeling very inadequate. Reading it again after more than a year gave me a strange drive to want to finish it, though. So, not to give you hope, but I think I will be continuing this story a lot sooner than I expected.

Have a chapter filled to the brink with fluff and smut, KakaSaku and Genino goodies. There will be another fluffy chapter and then we will get to the action ;)

Thank you kakashisgf for betaing this, you're so wonderfully, delightfully good at what you do and I appreciate your exceptional kindness.

Chapter 13: Decisions and Choices

Sakura woke up with suffocating warmth squashed against her cheek.

It took her a moment to remember what happened last night, and another moment to realise Kakashi had her pressed firmly against his chest next to the calm and sure thud of his heart.

What the ...

Sakura went incredibly still. Kakashi was ... cuddling her? Kakashi had her so closely held to him there was barely an inch of space between them. Their legs were tangled, his chin resting atop her head and his arm draped heavily over her waist.

He was hot everywhere they touched, like a human furnace, and Sakura's face was growing rapidly warmer in her confined quarters. Tentatively, she allowed her arm to wrap around him, pressing her palm to his back, and quietly marvelled at having him like this, with her.

Her heart started beating quicker as she remembered the even more intimate feeling of the open heat of his mouth on hers, bare and without his mask to separate them. A mouth she hadn't seen yet.

She bit her lip and could've sworn she could still taste him there.

She shifted unsurely, wondering whether to wake him up or stay entangled like this a little longer.

"Mmm ... Sakura ..." he rasped over a sigh, jolting her a little. He made no attempt to move, however, and after the passage of a few silent and heavy moments, filled only with his quiet breathing, she realised he was still asleep.

Was he ... was he dreaming about her?

Sakura chewed on her lip, her heart thundering in her ears. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest was soothing, urging hers to calm down, to beat together as one.

"Kakashi," she whispered, testing.

A few beats passed. No reply.

She wiggled slowly out of his hold, putting a few inches between them. When she craned her neck up, she found his eyes closed, his face masked.

Sakura let out a soft breath ... she had hoped it wouldn't be there today, now that she knew the feel and taste of his lips.

But she would be patient. She didn't know what the kiss they shared last night meant for them, but she wasn't sure she could summon the courage to ask him.

Contemplatively, she pressed the pad of her thumb against his clothed lips, feeling them plush under her touch. Just the thought that they had been pressed against hers made her entire body throb with something like electricity.

Riveted and helpless to stop, Sakura swiped left and right, tracing the contours of his mouth. Afraid, suddenly, that he'd awaken, she dropped her thumb from his lips to brush his chin, running along his sharp jawline, back and forth.

Sakura hadn't even realised she was holding her breath until her biological functions kicked in and forced her to suck in a mouthful of air. Up this close, she could see the way his mask hugged every inch of his face, could imagine his strong cheekbones and his thin lips, his lower one a little fuller than his upper one, the otherwise barely noticeable bump on the bridge of his nose.

She knew Kakashi was attractive, she wasn't blind, but she found herself thinking that he was beautiful like this, basking in the serenity of sleep under the warm glow of the sun filtering through her window.

Sakura reached up daringly and slipped all five fingers of her hand through the thick mane of his silver hair, feeling the soft strands between them.

Would he kiss her again?

If he didn't, would she be able to stand it?

There was an ache in her chest that was familiar and unfamiliar at once. She'd only gotten a taste, a sampling, but she longed for the feeling of his lips moulding with hers again, even if just for a few seconds.

Kakashi's eyelashes fluttered, his brows scrunching as he rejoined the world of the living. Dusky eyes peeked at her, bleary with sleep.

Sakura watched him with a dry mouth, slowly withdrawing her hand from his hair. He blinked slowly, and Sakura waited with bated breath for him to say something, anything.

"Hey," he murmured, the faint creasing around his eyes indicating a hidden smile.

He had no business looking that content in her bed, in her arms. Sakura swallowed tremulously, called upon a shaky smile. "Hey ..."

Silence, the thickest one yet, and Sakura could barely breathe under his half-lidded gaze. His hand moved to brush pink hair out of her eyes, and her eyes trailed the motion, her breath still lost somewhere in her lungs.

"Why did you kiss me last night?" she blurted.

He blinked sleepily at her, a little confused and slow to catch up, but his eyes creased again. "Why does a man kiss a woman, Sakura?"

The heat in her cheeks was damning. "Usually there are multiple reasons why."

He hummed, a throaty sound that left her flustered. He brushed her hair again, gentle fingers carding through the soft strands. "And why do you think I kissed you?"

The blush was spreading down her neck; her whole body felt feverish with the heat of his. She swallowed again before she attempted speaking, her eyes fixed on the lower part of his face, unable to meet his eyes yet. "I think maybe ... that you like me."

His mouth stretched into a smile under the mask, tugging at the material, and it left her a little breathless. "Does that scare you?"

More than anything. It scared her because she liked him too. It scared her because she suddenly wanted this to work with an all-encompassing need. It scared her because she felt as if he was hers deep in her bones, and she couldn't hope to untangle him from her.

She chuckled ruefully. "I'm a mess."

His hand snagged her wrist, pressed the flat of her palm over his chest where his heart was beating hard and fast, beats stumbling over each other in a rising crescendo, just like her own, his hand covering hers completely. "Me too," he confessed.

She smiled shyly and reached for his free hand, his palm warm in hers, and tugged it towards her heart in reciprocation. There, he could feel hers warbling in rhythm with his.

His eyes creased fully, the rising blush in his cheeks peeking over the mask. "I guess we're both a mess then," she admitted with a wry smile.

"I guess we are," he returned with a soft chuckle.

And somehow everything was okay for once.


Genma sneezed.

"Sheesh, did you catch a cold too?" Ino leaned back to snatch a tissue and handed it to the miserably sniffling shinobi confined to a hospital bed.

"I'm not the one who has locked me up here to catch germs instead of sending me off to my perfectly fine bed," Genma grumbled, loudly blowing his nose.

"You came this close to death!" Ino exclaimed, clearly still upset about that.

"Yeah! For like the hundredth time in my life!" Genma's exasperated tone rose over the calmly beeping machines strapped to him. "I've been here two weeks—I've never spent more than a few days in the hospital. This is a bit much. I'm fine, Ino, please."

Ino shook her head, a retort building in her throat, but she swallowed it down with force. Genma was just feeling restless, and she couldn't blame him for that. But he needed to make a full recovery and soon so that they could attend the festival together. "I'm taking none of that." She rose to her feet, expression determined. "I'm going to get you some jello, and maybe then you'll lose that irritated tic in your brow."

Genma groaned, falling back on his pillow with a petulant huff that reminded Ino of her five-year-old cousin whenever he was denied another cookie. She rolled her eyes in answer and disappeared out of the room.

Maybe Genma was right; two weeks were a little excessive, but his cast was only removed yesterday, and she didn't want to push her luck.

However, he had been sulking every day for the past week, and Ino was tempted to give in just to get her teasing, funny boyfriend back. She missed him in ways that completely surprised her. She missed his laughter and his goading words and his wicked smirks and all the ways he managed to rile her up with barely any effort.

And even more than that, she missed the way he took her apart with a touch, piece by piece, and rebuilt her over and over.

Jello in hand, Ino paused in the middle of the hallway.

Would it be too much of a stretch to think that Genma might have missed that too? Was he feeling pent up and left hanging like she was?

It seemed like months ago they were sitting in his living room having dinner, both satiated from their shower activities.

Ino shook herself, trying to dislodge the thoughts worming their way into her brain. Just because Genma was horny ninety percent of the time didn't mean he was being short-tempered and frustrated because of it.

But what if ...

"Dammit," Ino grumbled to herself as her stomach tightened in interest.

It would be nice, just to be close to him, to feel his touch for a little while and forget everything else. The question was if he would be in the mood or not ...

Ino silently slipped back into his room. Contemplating. Measuring.

Genma looked at her, opening his mouth, but then he abruptly shut it. Whatever he saw in her face, he was willing to wait and see what she had in mind, what she would do.

Ino set the jello down on the desk by the door, leaning back heavily against it, her fingers deftly twisting the key.

The distinct noise of the door locking made Genma blink, his eyebrows rising faintly in question. "Ino?"

Ino bit her lip, pressing herself further against the door. After another moment of hesitation, she reached for the buttons of her shirt, expertly undoing them one by one.

Genma's eyebrows steadily climbed up his forehead as her shirt split in the middle to reveal her white lace bra and the long stretch of her torso.

"What are you doing?" He swallowed, his eyes falling to her chest in momentary distraction before flickering up to meet her own again.

What was she doing?

"I was thinking," she began lightly, her shirt sliding off her shoulders to land at her feet. She reached under her skirt to shimmy out or her panties, purposely keeping the long purple garment on. "And haven't you ever wanted to do it in a hospital?"

Genma's jaw dropped as he sputtered, "Wait—now?"

Ino shrugged, despite the slightly hysterical laughter bubbling at the back of her throat.

"What? You can't tell me I'm the only one going crazy here," she countered, approaching him with a single-minded purpose, all lithe grace and lean legs as she hefted herself atop of him. "Don't you want this?"

Genma's mouth shut with an audible click as he regarded her, hands settling at her hips as if helpless to stop himself from the allure of her skin when it was on display and within reach. "Of course I want this, but ..." he trailed off, searching her face. Whatever he found there spurred him on.

"But nothing," she whispered as one of his hands sunk in her hair, drawing her closer. Their lips met softly, and Ino tried not to shudder at the first gentle contact in over a week.

"You're wicked, you know that, right?"

Ino let out a shaky laugh, pressing her palms down on the ridges of his hard abs, and settled comfortably on his hips, where her centre met his. "If wanting you makes me wicked ... then I'm as wicked as they get."

Their next kiss held more pressure and surety, his mouth moulding against hers as his hands trailed lightly up and down her sides, just relishing. His tongue dipped into her mouth, stroking until he ripped a little whimper from her throat, to which he responded by lightly bucking into her.

"You're an annoying worrywart, but I missed you," he groaned across her lips, hand squeezing her covered breast before slipping his palm beneath her bra to press over her distended nipple.

Ino cooed, hips rolling against his. She could feel him hot and hardening beneath her, his touch growing bolder as he pinched and teased at her nipples, gripped her ass-cheeks, and ground her against him.

Separated by nothing but the thin cloth of his hospital gown, Ino felt everything, the friction growing decidedly more delicious with every roll of their hips together.

"I missed you too," Ino sighed deeply, ignoring his remark and reaching between them to touch him.

He hissed softly, thrusting appreciatively into her palm. The hand in her hair dragged her into another kiss, this one charged and tingling everywhere.

Ino moaned, rapidly turned on by the wet heat of his mouth on hers and the hot flesh sliding against her palm, damp at her fingertips and pulsing.

"Shit," she gasped brokenly when a nip of his teeth at her neck made her shudder from head to toe.

She'd wanted to take her time to enjoy the feel of his skin, the quiet hum of his voice, and the glorious corded muscles supporting her, but it was proving too difficult to resist. The neediness urged her to guide him to the hot place between her thighs where she ached for him and tease herself with the tip of his cock.

Genma let out a rough breath that rattled in his throat, grasping her hips and encouraging her to grind her clit against him, to use him to pleasure herself. He bit and nibbled on her lower lip, reaching full hardness with each slick slide between her folds until she felt him fervently pulsating in her hand.

"Fuck," she groaned, unable to take her self-imposed, maddening teasing anymore, and allowed herself to sink an inch down onto him.

Genma's head fell back with a long-drawn moan that made her want to ravish him as she fully seated herself atop of him.

A stuttering breath wavered through her lips, and she pressed clammy hands on his chest as she met his heavy, darkened gaze with her own. She waited a moment, the tension building several hundred degrees in the space of seconds, crackling like electricity in the scant space separating them from each other.

Breathing roughly, and without breaking eye contact, Genma reached for the hem of her skirt and pushed it up to expose the way his cock lodged deeply inside her. The cool air made Ino ache, but it was the way his eyes slowly descended the length of her body to look at her, making her face warm, that propelled her to slowly lift her hips up and slide down on him.

It extracted shaky sounds from the both of them, the way his eyes remained firmly fixed on the place where they joined making Ino's entire body feel strung up tight and desperate. But, determined to make this as pleasurable as possible for him, Ino repeated the motion deliberately, giving him a drawn-out view of the way her lips parted around him to the last inch and rose again to leave a sleek trail in their wake.

The sudden press of his thumb on her clit wrenched a moan from her throat, and all her previous plans of exercising her patience went out of the window. "Genma," she whined, her chest rising and falling rapidly as her pace quickened. "You're going to make me come if you keep this up …"

The sound he produced in response made Ino tremble, and she rocked down harder against him, their hips meeting with a resounding smack.

His arms encircled her waist as his heels pressed down on the mattress, and the sudden change of angle had her urgently muffling a moan in her palm.

"Do it," he gritted out as he buried his face in her chest and slammed up into her with force. "Come for me."

His teeth sank into the creamy flesh, extracting a startled gasp from her. He followed it with the soothing heat of his tongue laving up against the bruised skin, and his thumb pressed down on her again, rubbing up an ache that drove her instantly crazy.

The tension in her body hit its precipice.

Ino took a gasping breath, fingers sinking in his long brown hair and drew him in for a desperate meshing of mouths.

Their teeth clinked, Genma's thrusts wavering. There was a frantic sound building in his throat to match hers, one he was trying to keep trapped in his lungs.

It came bubbling out, a guttural moan that wrenched from his throat as he drove her down on him, ramming against a part of her that made her see white.

Ino fell apart and dragged him down with her.


Sakura was sure she hadn't blushed so much in her life. But every time she met the warm depths of Kakashi's eyes watching her over the edge of his book with something akin to love, she felt her whole body heating in reaction, starting with the damning pink in her cheeks.

He sat at the other side of her couch, her toes tucked comfortably under his thighs as they both read. Sakura was going through some of her old medical notes, trying to figure out a way to counter the heat jutsu that had targeted her twice whilst Kakashi riffled leisurely through Icha Icha.

Except every time he flipped the page, he tugged her attention back to him, like he was a magnet and she a helpless brass coin caught in his field. Except sometimes he looked at her the moment she looked at him, and their gazes slotted together.

It was embarrassing how it made her feel like a nervous teenager with clammy palms, like a pool of heat about to evaporate, like a trembling wire close to fraying ….

The festival turned out to be the day after tomorrow, and that was splitting her attention too. She had no doubt Ino would drag her shopping today or tomorrow, away from the suffocating quietness filled with so many unsaid things, away from the nervous energy that sat coiled in her gut with his nearness.

"Are we still on for the festival?" she asked Kakashi, wondering if hearing his voice would break this strange tension. But when he looked up yet again from his book, Sakura still found herself unable to breathe properly.

"I believe we are." And then he paused, running a hand through his shaggy hair. "I need to trim my hair though."

Now that he mentioned it, his hair was looking a bit shaggy and long.

Now that he mentioned it, all she could think about was that moment when she had him in her arms and a handful of his hair between her fingers.

Before she could chicken out, Sakura piped up, "I could do it for you."

He blinked slowly, seemingly taken aback but contemplative. She stared at him, unsure if he appreciated the offer or not. But then he huffed out a laugh and said, "Well, you asked for it. As you can see, it's a mess."

"Pfft," she laughed, hoping it would calm her heartbeat. "It'll take me like ten minutes. Come on." She got up, dragging his stupefied gaze after her.


"Yeah, why not?"

They shuffled into her somewhat cramped bathroom, and Sakura let out an internal sigh of relief to discover she had done her laundry before she left for their mission and her basket wasn't overflowing with anything potentially embarrassing.

Kakashi paused unsurely at her door frame, looking adorably lost.

To hurry things along, Sakura grabbed the scissors from the cabinet behind the mirror and easily hefted herself to sit atop the washing machine.

"Come on," she called for him, smiling to hide her wobbly nerves.

Kakashi arched his brow but shrugged and braved the short stretch of her bathroom until he stood before her. Like this, they were the same height. Like this, she could almost drown in his eyes.

"Um, turn around," she said a little thickly.

His eyes twinkled, and he smiled, taking her breath with him as he turned. "Like this?"

He was teasing her, she realised with a huff and reached to flick the back of his neck with her index finger. "Don't tease me ... I'm the one with the scissors."

"I'm terrified," he deadpanned, which made her want to laugh, but she settled for patting his shirt. "Take this off."

"Why Sakura-chan, aren't you—"

"Shut up!" She smacked him, her face flaming. Of course he'd choose now out of all times to get her flustered and embarrassed!

He let out a gasping laugh. "Okay, okay! Sorry," he apologised sincerely, earning another indignant huff.

However, her embarrassment was instantly forgotten as she watched Kakashi reach behind him to grab the back of his shirt and pull it off. It was replaced by simmering warmth in her heart and in her stomach as inch after inch of his glorious taut and scarred back came into view.

She didn't think she'd ever be able to stop admiring Kakashi's skin.

But she'd already embarrassed herself twice now, and she didn't fancy a third idle comment from him.

Working on trimming his hair just barely distracted her, but she kept her focus on evenly cutting the strands. "How short do you want it to be?"

"I don't really care," Kakashi said in reply, "as long as it looks presentable."

Wow, he was giving her a lot of room to work ... "Are you sure? You want to give me full liberties to give you whatever hairstyle I want?"

Kakashi shrugged again.

Okay then.

Sakura went back to work, cutting and cutting until the hairs at the back of his head were short, and then she did the same with the sides, although that was even more distracting as it afforded her a view of his profile.

Little hairs fluttered down to the ground as she continued her work, some landing on her thighs, some getting caught on the cotton of his sweatpants.

She dusted off the ones at his back, secretly marvelling at the feeling of his skin under her palm and the way the small window by her bathtub lit up his profile.

She lost herself for a while as she worked, spaced out and adrift in all the little things about him that she liked: the soft, silver hair slipping through her fingers, the pale-white scars littering his back, the smooth and firm muscles layered under his skin.

"Turn around," she eventually commanded, and a moment later she was face-to-face with his naked torso and charcole eyes.

She was torn between appreciating the mouthwatering sight of his lean, corded abs and being overwhelmed by the irrational bursts of irritation at finding his face still barred from her sight and longing for him to bare it to her.

Trying to ignore his lidded, intense gaze, Sakura began trimming his fringe, but he was outright staring at her, and it made her want to fidget.

She lowered her hands unsurely. "What?"

"What?" he returned evenly, still dissecting her with his eyes.

"You're staring at me," she accused without heat.

"I'm not," he denied.

"Yes, you are," she insisted, feeling her face warm under his scrutiny.

"... fine, I am." The admission startled her, and now it was her turn to stare at him.

"Why?" she asked when she finally found her voice, then entirely stopped breathing when he moved closer to her.

"Because you're ..." he trailed off, let out a soft huff as he reached with both hands to tuck strands of hair behind her ears. The feeling of his big, roughened palms subsequently bracketing her face made her body want to seize up and melt, just like that, with a single touch. He sighed, leaning closer to press his lips to her forehead and then rest his head against hers. "... beautiful."

Sakura was sure she blushed with her whole body at that. She swallowed a little shakily, closing her eyes as something inside her leapt and free-fell in succession, leaving her dazed and winded.

In a daring move she didn't quite understand how she mustered, except gods she might cry if she didn't, Sakura leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his masked one.

It was quick and chaste, another sample that left her starving, but the way her heart stuttered was painful, and she didn't know if she could take any more, just like she didn't know if she wanted to stop.

He blinked at her, looking somewhat dazed himself. His thumb stroked her cheekbone slowly, like he might have been unaware that he was doing it, and Sakura waited with bated breath for him to do something, hoped and wished and prayed he would kiss her again.

When his hands dropped from her face, it took every ounce of her self control not to let her expression fall in disappointment, but it burned bright and hot inside her.

And then Kakashi did something unexpected—he grabbed his shirt off the washing machine and, with a single command for warning, secured it around her eyes. "Don't move."

Sakura forgot how to breathe, "K-kakashi?"

"Shh." He was closer than she expected, his breath wavering hotly over her chin. "I want to do something."

Whatever that something was, Sakura hoped she'd survive it.

When he cupped her face again, she began to doubt her chances.

Her heart was racing so fast, she was beginning to feel light-headed, but for the life of her, she could barely get herself to breathe.

He tilted her chin, the motion making her scarce breaths stutter, and then, just like last night, the heat of his bare lips were against hers.

Sakura gasped, his mouth swallowing the sound, and her hands shot up to grasp the back of his as she leaned closer, desperately, despite herself and all her inhibitions. She was going to savour this even if it killed her.

His tongue slipping inside her mouth made her moan, much to her absolute mortification, but she lacked the mental space to dwell on it much. Kakashi was taking his time, unhurriedly moving their lips together despite the desperation she was sure he could taste on her tongue, and it was driving her heart rate to dangerous levels.

Her hands drifted to the back of his head, and she almost regretted trimming the strands so short as she struggled to find proper purchase. She pulled him closer, parting her lips further as she awkwardly matched his pace, torn between wanting more and savouring what he was giving.

The earthy undertones that clung to him, the familiar woodsy scent was all there, a hundred times amplified on her taste buds. The intensity of it made her heady; just knowing how vividly, intimately his taste and smell were in her memory now sent her spiraling down a tunnel with no return.

And Kakashi, he was merciless in the way their tongues finished a dance only for him to start another and another and another, twirling and gliding and spiralling down with her until her whole mouth was tingling and she couldn't breathe anymore. Until she had to rip hers away from his and gasp down oxygen like a drowning woman breaking through the surface.

But he was there with her, rough breaths ghosting against her temple and the racing, banging beat of his heart against her palm.

Sakura was so wonderfully dizzy.

Sakura had never hated breathing so much.

The rollercoaster of emotions trapped in her chest was overwhelming, the strange high, the rush, this foreign yet intimately familiar feeling—and it was love, in the deepest corners of her mind she knew this, even when she had no idea how to deal with it, what to do about it—after all, no one had ever requited her feelings before.

She breathed deeply and willed the wonderful fog in her brain to lift and subside. "Wow."

The rumble of his chuckle vibrated through her, and Sakura found her arms snaking around his waist to pull him closer, just wanting to feel his warmth against her. His arms settled around her, comforting and safe.

With her cheek against his bare chest and getting rapidly addicted to the sound of his heart just beating, wishing to melt into him, Sakura soaked him all up, from the electric-like pulsing of his chakra to the way the fine hairs on his chest felt against her skin.

His fingers rubbed the sensitive spot at the back of her neck, ran through the thick hair at the nape. "You can't see it, but I'm blushing."

Sakura groaned into his chest. "Damn you, why do you have to be such a tease?"

He laughed, and she fell in love with the way it crackled in his chest against her ear. "Not sorry."

"... I wish I could see your face," she admitted, quietly, with longing.

She felt him sigh against the top of her head. "It's a perfectly ordinary face."

She scoffed, pressing further into his embrace. "We both know you're handsome, so shut up."

He chuckled again, softer. "Fine. I'll show you at the festival."

Sakura's head jerked back even if she couldn't see him with the makeshift blindfold she had on. "Wait—really?"

"Really," he affirmed, and she found herself grinning. "But you can't tell anyone ... I gotta keep that air of mystery, you know?"

"Deal!" Sakura enthused, then giggled when he pinched her cheeks between his palms and drew her in for another peck.

Sakura was already hopelessly addicted, but so was he, it seemed.

It was funny how she spent weeks with Kakashi in a room so far away from here, fighting valiantly to hold onto every piece of her that wanted to crumble for him. It was funny because now, all those weeks later, in a different, more familiar room, she craved nothing but to fall apart.

Like a powerful sudden epiphany that shakes you to the core, Sakura, who had already known what they had was something bigger than them—something strong and unwavering and ever-growing, something unstoppable and not necessarily within her control—she now realised it wasn't about choices and the lack of them. It was the decisions she made and stuck by. You don't always get to choose who you fall in love with; sometimes it just sneaks up on you and you're all the happier for it.

In some ways, a part of her soul simply yearned to love and be loved in return. And now there was a bigger, more consuming part burning through the rest of her that it was Kakashi she wanted, him and all his jagged pieces and never-healing scars and nothing else. Her soul chose him.

Him, against her, like this, always within reach. Not pushing her away, no longer afraid to just hold onto her and pull her closer if he so desired.

Them and the thousand unspoken things she knew wouldn't always be secrets buried in the deepest recesses of her heart and the cracks of his soul, secrets that would come out, eventually, like all things about them that started slowly and then happened all at once. Like how they seeped into her touch and out of his kiss and sat growing and weaving in the enclosed space between them, no longer fragile but gaining strength with every confession and every touch.

And there was a sense of completion, of belonging, that made it so easy for Sakura to close her eyes like so many times before and bury herself between his arms.

Here, everything was okay. Here, it was enough.

She was home.

Let me know what you think? I hope you enjoyed!

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