Our wedding was small but full of music, laughter, and sincerity. I wore a long-sleeved, high-necked gown that covered most of my scars. But for the first time, I didn’t feel like I was hiding. I felt radiant. Seen. Cherished.
That night, in the quiet of our tiny apartment, Obipa reached out and touched my face with careful hands. His fingers traced every line, every ridge, every scar — but his voice was steady and filled with wonder.
Tears filled my eyes — until his next words froze me where I stood.
“I’ve seen your face before.”
The Secret He Had Kept
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