Petros will return time and again to his place on bended knee, gazing up at her. Melina. The only woman he has ever loved, with the flesh like baked apples and the soft-lashed brown eyes. A day has passed, and he can still hear the silence that came after his question, still feel the cavity in his chest that could only be filled by her answer. Nai. She cried honest tears, then. And now here she stands, admitting a lie. Petros stares at her.
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