When she woke up the next morning, Debra instinctively reached out to feel around.

She muttered, "Marion, what time is it?"

There was no response. She opened her eyes and found Marion wasn't in bed.

After a quick wash, she went downstairs.

Marion, who had come back from his mission, was cooking breakfast in the kitchen. The sleeves of his black shirt were rolled up.

"You're up so early," he said, noticing it was only 7 a.m.

He had gotten used to Debra's routine.

"Breakfast is ready. Come eat," he added, setting two sandwiches and a bowl of oatmeal on the table.

Since Debra's injury, her health had been poor. While in the hospital, she'd repeatedly had fevers. Recently, she could only eat light food.

She had slept deeply last night, probably because she was exhausted.

After she took her seat, Marion sat next to her and began to gather her hair into a bun.

at

for you," he replied with a

and reported, "Sir, the churches are

paused mid-sentence, noticing Debra was there, and stammered nervously, "I'm sorry for

quick bow, he hurriedly

gaze flickered

had imagined a hundred different scenarios, but

to check out some of the nearby churches,"

tell me?" Debra pinched his face. "You waited until I fell asleep

didn't want you to tire

injury, and the past few days of running around dealing with Drake's problems had probably made her wounds flare up

changed her bandages. Her

about her, so

his mouth and said, "Just don't hide things

nodded vigorously,

him in the forehead. "You stayed up all night, right?

was finally satisfied. "Eat up. I'll nap

Drake

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