“Look at me now. My appearance displeases, does it not? By resting next door, my unappealing countenance won’t vex your sight. The physician said it would take days to recover.”

In the face of Millie’s forlorn and inquiring eyes, Marcus underwent a sudden enlightenment.

She believed he harbored an aversion to her ruddy and pimpled complexion.

Tenderly, Marcus reassured her in a hushed voice, “Your appearance doesn’t trouble me. Let go of the quilt and get some rest.”

Astonishingly, it seemed that Millie’s assumption was misguided. Marcus was unaffected by her appearance. Passing her, he deposited a glass of milk on the nightstand.

“Consume some milk before sleeping. It aids in restfulness.”

hadn’t recoiled; rather, he had procured milk from the kitchen, a gesture steeped in

closing the distance between herself and Marcus, her

his habitually immaculate attire, believing her present

you recoil and relegate me to

sharing every facet of life, embracing both the triumphs and the tribulations,

“Honey, I love you.”

Angela’s Library

a

and have

the milk, Millie nestled into bed. Amidst dreams, she found herself enveloped in a firm

downward, tenderly lifting the hem of her clothing, revealing an

of compassion.

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