With a wine glass in hand, Mylo clinked glasses with Delmor, a note of wistfulness woven into his voice.

“Remarkable, this estate. Its grandeur is unrivaled, emanating a fragrance of blossoms that mingles with the opulence of the sprawling lawn. And that artificial beach with its azure expanse-it’s truly something to behold. My own wedding might just surpass this splendor.”

Delmor glanced sidelong at Mylo, a wry smile tugging at his lips.

“Your wedding? I might just beat you to it. It’s unusual to see you at such an event without a lady by your side. But perhaps it’s for the best, given the gravity of this occasion.”

Mylo’s gaze shifted towards a woman perched on a swing nearby.

“Then let’s make a pact-whoever finds himself walking down the aisle first wins.”

Delmor’s gaze followed the trajectory of Mylo’s stare, his brows furrowing in contemplation.

genuinely

his wine glass marked Mylo’s response,

marriage beckons. We share a similar social standing, and my investigations

in political circle. You comprehend my

Angela’s Library

the sentiment remained that even if marriage materialized, the allure of

“How’s the progress, then?”

mulled over the question, his demeanor subtly perturbed

I’ve adhered to

Mylo, squinting in a manner that suggested he found Mylo’s

I haven’t won her

considerable journey ahead. But

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