She realized then what she was doing and quickly let go of his hand.
Winifred knew Yvan was a bit of a neat freak and hated being touched by people he wasn’t close to.
Once, a girl had grabbed his hand without permission, and he had pulled out a sanitizing wipe right in front of her, calling her dirty. The girl had run off in tears.
To her relief, Yvan didn't get angry with her. He just scoffed and said she was a coward.
Winifred mumbled a defense, saying she was just afraid the thugs would come after them for revenge.
Yvan didn’t say anything more, but he walked her all the way home.
A few days later, a girl in Winifred’s class named Judith suddenly transferred schools. Then, the internet cafe shut down, and the run-down building was demolished.
Yvan told her that Judith had been the one to hire the thugs to harass her. He had taken care of it, he said, so she didn't have to worry about them seeking revenge.
Winifred didn't know how to feel.
Perhaps it was from that moment on that her feelings for Yvan started to change.
No matter what, he was always there to save her when she was in danger.
Winifred’s heart softened. She noticed a cut on the back of his hand, scraped raw from the fight.
She instinctively took his hand. “Look, your hand is hurt,” she said, her voice laced with concern.
Yvan pulled his hand back. “It’s nothing, just a scratch.”
Winifred glanced around and saw a pharmacy across the street. “Wait here,” she told him.
She ran across the road and into the store, returning a moment later with a small bag.
“Sit down. Let me clean that for you,” she said, guiding him to a nearby planter box.


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