“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

was complete, they retreated to their vehicle. Millie nestled the acquisition upon her lap, and as Marcus navigated, his gaze grazed the cerebral illustration adoring the

his

deeper musings. A suspicion had sprouted within her—a seed of

slipped through the grasp

fast back

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

And in due

that I’m adrift in the sea of forgotten recollections?” Millie’s words were tender and vulnerable

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

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