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.

compass guiding them to success. As Millie’s ankle surrendered to the water’s tender caress, the crab, like a

swirling within her gaze

bore the crimson badge of its conquest, a prominent bloodstain, and an undeniable swell that

knelt, her gaze a steadfast beam upon

sensing retribution in the air, brandished its mighty claws with swift determination, a battle standard unfurled

her actions swift and decisive,

cry pierced the tranquility, stirring Marcus from his reverie. He couldn’t help

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

her chin resting daintily upon her

that ending the life of this crab might curtail my own? Yet, it was it that sought to wound

specter, lingered in her memory. The crab’s grip had held her for what felt like an eternity. Even

its demise the stakes. Marcus,

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