“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?”

sleeves methodically rolled up as if preparing for confrontation. Their paths crossed with

convictions solidified, drawing a connection between Marcus and

initially unsettled him now crystallized into a determined resolve to seek

he wouldn’t have sent me to the hospital.” Roland’s impatience was palpable in his response, refuting his

who could it

unfamiliar

hospital together. The furrowed expanse between her eyebrows betrayed a lingering sense of unease, a testimony to the fear that

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

your ruminations, my dear, Return home

state, Marcus found

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