Jurin’s post-breakup era was supposed to be about healing, new hair, and avoiding men who remind her of her ex. What she didn’t plan for was finding a half-drowned, silver-haired man on the shore—one who kisses her out of the blue, speaks like he’s from another century, and claims to be a prince.
"Who-who are you?" Jurin asked, her gaze fixed on him, still recovering from her shock.
The man chuckled, his voice rich and smooth as fine wine.
"I am Riven," he said.
There was a beat of silence.
"The fucking Winx Club character?" Chisa arched an eyebrow.
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