“The chains of weariness have enshrouded me of late,” Marcus replied, weariness painted upon his tone. “His counsel was one of respite, fearing my relentless labor might cause dire consequence.”

Yet Millie sensed a nuance beyond the surface. Marcus bore within him a concealed narrative, a story yet untold.

Facing the clarity in Millie’s eyes, Marcus felt a pang of melancholy. He hated lying, but it was an illness without a cure.

His countenance remained resolute before Millie, a facade meant to shield her from his fragility. His desire was unwavering—to spare her the weight of his concerns.

“Let’s head back. As you see, I’m hale and hearty,” he declared, his words buoyant in an attempt to dispel Millie’s burgeoning concern.

An inkling of consternation creased Millie’s brow.

bookstore. Millie, seized by a literary yearning, declared her intention to procure a book. Marcus, ever the companion, joined her within the quaint emporium. Amid the shelves and

the acquisition upon her lap, and as Marcus navigated, his gaze grazed the cerebral illustration

selection?” queried Marcus, his

A suspicion had

photograph have slipped through the

fast back to the

the sofa’s embrace, the book before her. Marcus, post-shower as

knowledge. And in due course,

the sea of forgotten recollections?”

gripped Marcus. What hidden knowledge did Millie possess? This very selection of book roused his

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