"I'm not good enough for you, Belle," he said, his entire body trembling as I pressed myself against him.

My arms wrapped around his neck, and I pulled him down to me.

"You are perfection to me," I whispered as I gently pressed my lips to the scarred skin of his cheek.

I could feel him breaking apart in my arms.

This was what he needed.

To be accepted.

To be cherished.

To be loved.

"Comment une telle personne horrible, méritent une telle beauté?" he sobbed.

His tears fell wet on my face as I pressed my lips to his.