Thalassa had been counting down the days, and finally, Saturday arrived.

She was up at the crack of dawn, 6 a.m., rifling through her wardrobe, trying on several outfits but not quite satisfied with any.

At last, she settled on a youthful avocado-green coat paired with off-white wide-leg pants and a matching trendy sweater.

Standing by the mirror, she examined herself from every angle but still wasn't pleased. Frowning, she felt at a loss over what to wear next.

Behind her, Lysander rolled up in his wheelchair, dressed as impeccably as ever in a handmade black suit and a deep blue tie, exuding an air of aristocratic sophistication without even trying.

Thalassa caught sight of him in the mirror and turned around, their eyes meeting. Suddenly, she felt a little vulnerable and walked over with a slight pout that she herself hadn't noticed, her voice carrying a hint of coquetry.

"Lysander, which outfit do you think looks better on me? I can't seem to find the perfect one," she said, squatting next to his wheelchair and resting her hand on its armrest, her clear, aqua eyes gazing into his. Lysander smiled, his hand gently caressing her head, "You're visiting the kids, not some secret lover. Why all the pomp and ceremony?"

Thalassa responded, "But they're my dearest treasures! It's been three years since I last saw them. They must have grown so much, and I... I must have aged. I don't want them to see an older version of me. I want to present the youngest, most beautiful image of myself."

young. Where's this 'old' coming from? Don't worry. No matter what, you'll always

words deeply moved Thalassa, reassuring her that her children's love

outfit?" After pondering for a moment, Thalassa stood up and

an indulgent smile, Lysander commented, "You look

rare to

compliment someone, and three-et

in a row

winner.

off, with a servant loading a pile

was filled with anticipation and nerves for

darlings. Last time, she had

that much, the others must have

what they looked like now but was excited

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