“I apologize. Allow me to help you clean your clothes.”

The girl eventually opted not to reveal the truth. She turned towards Millie, offering an apology.

Millie’s irate eyes shifted between the girl and Rosie.

“No, thank you. I’ll wash up.”

Before departing, Millie intentionally brushed against Rosie, spilling coffee on her.

“Ahi”

“Millie, stop!”

pace, responding without glancing

thirties, yet your behavior is

her

in reality, Millie was considerably younger than Rosie. It was an inescapable truth that Rosie

countenance, an attribute that aroused both envy and

on her attire. The dampness clung to her skin, generating a distinct sense of discomfort. Regrettably, her circumstances left her no alternative; without a change of clothing

casually, toying with a pen from her desk, twirling it between his fingers with

other women in the office discreetly cast occasional

Angela’s Library

defined by a sharply

you

legs languidly and responded, “I dropped by to see Marcus.

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