“Mother, don’t curse me. I shall triumph over this predicament. My gait remains unimpeded. A trifling wound, truly.” Roland’s fervor surged, and he poised to set foot in motion.

“You, my dear and impulsive son, do take a seat.” With immediacy, Delia interceded, her actions a swift arrest of his intent, while her tone carried a reproachful note.

Millie, positioned alongside them, prompted Roland’s gaze.

“Millie, you needn’t remain. My mother shall oversee my recovery “Rest well,” she offered, a benediction before her departure. Millie offered a subtle nod, her affirmation a silent acknowledgment of the situation, Meanwhile, Hans cast a stern gaze in her direction, a glare laden with unspoken queries. Following her exit from the ward, Hans seized the moment to voice his curiosity.

A N G E L A ‘s L I B R A R Y

“Speak truthfully now. Has Millie’s husband caused you harm?”

preparing for confrontation. Their paths crossed with Marcus along the corridor. Within the ward’s confines, Millie’s presence soon graced

convictions solidified, drawing a connection between Marcus

that had initially unsettled him now crystallized into a determined resolve

he had harmed me, he wouldn’t have sent me

could it

stranger, someone unfamiliar to

the distance to join Marcus before they exited the hospital together. The furrowed expanse between her eyebrows betrayed a lingering sense of unease, a testimony to the fear that had

Roland and Marcus that had shielded her from a potential tragedy,

your ruminations, my dear, Return home

to Millie’s somber state, Marcus found himself troubled by her

question the reason behind Marcus *

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