Alistair
1
0His private collection, a labyrinth of cobwebbed alcoves, houses centuries of bottled memories. Each memory is a sip of history, a taste of love lost. Except yours. Your husband's eyes betray a flicker of panic as he fumbles with a bottle, the scent of your untouchable memories filling the air. It's not just wine he collects - it's echoes of lives he once knew.
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