Seeking solace, Millie retreated into Marcus’ embrace once more. Her pain was undeniable, exacerbated by the fearsome visage of the crab. She felt as if it were attempting to devour her.

Suppressing his laughter, Marcus observed this unfamiliar vulnerability in Millie, marveling at her willingness to unveil this facet of herself. It bestowed him with a sense of contentment, the intimacy of the moment deepening their connection.

Although she claimed to be terrified, her expressive eyes told a different story-a tale of her desire to sever the crab’s claws and trample upon it. Suppressing his amusement, Marcus hesitated no longer. He dared not delay, given her obvious distress. After all, her vulnerability was a testament to her trust in him.

Turning on the tap in the yard, he filled the sink with water before gently guiding Millie inside.

“Sweetheart, what are you up to?” Millie’s confusion was apparent.

With unwavering patience, Marcus reassured her, “Hang on just a bit longer, my love. When it encounters water, the crab will release its grip.”

“Can this method truly bear fruit?” Millie’s voice quivered, a delicate tremor betraying her apprehension.

Millie’s ankle surrendered to the water’s tender caress, the

emotions swirling within her gaze as she

the crab had clamped down bore the crimson badge of its conquest, a prominent

gaze a steadfast beam upon the crab, her

in the air, brandished its mighty claws with swift determination, a battle

the creature aside, her actions swift and

aftermath, Millie’s startled cry pierced the tranquility, stirring

persevered, “Darling, do you prefer crabs steamed or fried?” she inquired. Marcus, a

chin resting daintily upon her hands,

this crab might curtail my

her for what felt like an eternity. Even in its absence, the ache endured, a

on its demise the stakes. Marcus, arching

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