Angel of Healing
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There had never been anything more rewarding than Christine's new work - the Great War had killed thousands, left hundreds more disfigured. Erik's face was handsome by comparison to those of the men she nursed now she had given up her childish fantasies of fame. "Thank you," she whispered into his shoulder one evening.

"For making dinner?" he smiled, maskless.

"For the chance to care for you."

He sobered. "I am not one of your patients, Christine."

"No," she replied, just as serious. "I am yours - you have healed my heart of selfishness, and taught me compassion ... and love."