Sensing Rose’s amusement, Morrison felt a wave of relief wash over him. But
the harder she laughed, the more flustered he became.
As she showed no signs of stopping, Morrison gritted his teeth, his face flushing
as he moved closer, and in one swift motion, he scooped Rose up and pinned
her down on the bed, amidst the soft bedding.
Rose’s expression wavered, making sure Morrison hadn’t touched her belly. She
paused for a moment, and seeing Morrison’s flushed, awkward face, she
couldn’t help but burst into laughter again.
“You’re still laughing…”
Enter title…

Morrison’s embarrassment was tangible, his voice strained and weighted with
discomfort.
Rose arched an eyebrow, “Would you prefer tears?”d2
Morrison pursed his lips, staring at her for a long while before admitting defeat,
“Then laugh it is.”
Rose couldn’t help but feel that this was a side of Morrison she’d never seen, a
far cry from the man she loved.
But wasn’t it adorable?
Her smile lingered as she quietly observed him. “Whose bright idea was this
anyway?”
Morrison’s brow twitched, “Can’t I come up with this all by myself?”
“Of course not.” Rose said decisively.
“And why not?”
“Because you just wouldn’t. This isn’t like you at all. You wouldn’t even entertain
the thought unless someone suggested it. And even then, your first reaction
would probably have been to dismiss it entirely. Whoever did suggest this
probably got an earful from you.”
Morrison fell silent. “You know me that well?”
Rose hesitated, then turned her face away.
Now it was Rose’s turn to feel the heat as Morrison’s lips curled into a smirk, “If
you know me so well, how come you didn’t realize I was in love with you?”
Rose’s eyes flickered, turning back to face him, “What gave me any reason to
think you loved me? You couldn’t get rid of me fast enough.”
Morrison took her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him, “I was wrong, and I
apologize. Is today’s gesture enough for you?”
Rose blinked, “All those times you went too far, and you think one session with
an onion will flip the script? Or maybe I should give you a hard time for the next
seven or eight years and then cut onions for you. Would that make us even?”
Morrison pressed his forehead against hers with more force than necessary.
“No.”
“You see…”
“I don’t want to spend another seven or eight years like this. We’ve already
missed out on so much time, and I don’t want to lose any more. Besides, you
love me, and I love you. You can hold me accountable for anything from now on.
If I step out of line, you can do whatever you want to me.”
Rose watched him silently.
Morrison asked, “What are you thinking?”

“I’m trying to figure out how to settle the score with you. And whether I can trust
what you’re saying now. I don’t want you to go back on your word when you’re
angry.”
“I promise.” Morrison hastily raised his hand to swear, “If I ever lose my temper
with you again, I’ll accept any consequences. May lightning strike me down if…”
“Morrison!” Rose interrupted.
He laughed and leaned in to kiss her lips gently. “I knew you couldn’t bear it.”
Rose pushed him away, “It’s just that men usually make those kinds of vows as
a way to trick women into forgiving them. Who believes in ‘may lightning strike
me down’?”
Morrison was speechless. What did you do when a woman was this tough to
handle?
“So, what do you actually want?”
Rose pushed him off and sat up, throwing back the covers and climbing in.
“Today, Grandma and Mom spoke quite highly of you. Out of respect for them, I
won’t argue with you tonight. I’m going to sleep.”
Morrison was stunned for a moment before leaning over her, “You mean you’ll
start arguing with me tomorrow?”
Rose curled up in the covers, “We’ll see. It depends on my mood. Now move, I
want to sleep.”
“Depends on your mood.”
Morrison watched as Rose pulled the covers around her, no longer paying him
any attention. He quickly kicked the onion aside, stripped off his pants, and dove
under the covers. He wrapped his arms around her tightly.
Rose glared at him, “What are you doing?”
Morrison kissed her forehead firmly, “Sleeping!”
Rose fell silent.
“Aren’t you tired? Sleep, staying up is bad for you.”
“Aren’t you going to shower?”
“I’m clean enough.”
Rose was speechless.
God, Morrison’s behavior tonight was just too abnormal.

Meanwhile, in P City, Chloe caught a glance of Damon fresh from the shower,
her eyes sparkling with mirth.
Damon sat down beside her bed, “What’s got you looking so smug?”
“Guess?”
Damon raised an eyebrow, lifted the covers, and placed his warm, well-defined
hands on her ankle, gently massaging it.
“Could it be your best friend finally turned the tables and sang her victory song?”
Chloe’s smile grew wider, “How did you know?”
As he worked his way up her leg, Damon replied, “What else could possibly
make you this excited besides her?”
Chloe batted her eyelashes, “Well, I’d be thrilled with heaps of money, too!”
Damon chuckled softly, “Then tomorrow, I’ll take you to the bank for a little tour.”
Chloe arched her brow, “For what?”
“To look at the account balances. If you’re still not happy afterward, you can stay
and play with the money.”
Playing with money? Nothing beat her man.
“What if I’m unhappy again later?”
“Mmm. We might consider taking a look at our properties.”
This man was really something. She knew if she kept it up, Damon would have
plenty more tricks up his sleeve, but the thought of this super-rich guy being her
husband made Chloe smile softly.
Damon’s smile deepened. “It’s great being wealthy; even my wife is easy to
please.”
Chloe laughed contentedly, “Lucky you’re really rich.”
“Lucky my wife just happens to like money.”
The atmosphere between them was exceptionally harmonious, and the room’s
coziness soared.
Due to carrying twins, even though Chloe was over a month behind Rose, her
belly was significantly larger. It was Alyssa who put it best, quipping, “That
belly’s changing faster than the weather—it’s sprouting like a weed.”
With the burgeoning belly came a heavier load for Chloe’s body to bear. Nights
were spent in a single, unchanging position, while a mere stroll during the day
left her legs aching.
Thankfully, Damon was her steadfast companion through it all. He was like an
encyclopedia, as if there was nothing he didn’t understand. The do’s and don’ts
of a pregnancy diet, the myriad physical reactions to expect, and quick remedies
for discomfort—he knew them all, rivaling any OBGYN.
At first, Chloe harbored some doubts about Damon’s extensive knowledge but
chose not to probe further. Instead, she heaped praise upon him, showering him
with admiration.
She stopped checking the personalized journal that Damon had dedicated
himself to—a detailed record of her pregnancy and all the things she needed to
pay attention to. She figured that by now, the journal must be nearly filled.
After all, no one was truly omniscient, not even Damon. Expertise required
focus, and knowledge didn’t just fly into one’s brain uninvited.
Some things were simple when you took a moment to think about them. Why
clouded them with misunderstandings and doubts?
Yet, some people preferred to live in a widely known lie, seeing through it
without calling it out.

The next morning, Rose woke to find Morrison’s side of the bed empty. Her gaze
drifted to the window, where the curtains filtered the bright morning light.
Throwing off the covers, she padded barefoot to the window and drew back the
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