Her gaze fell to the crab’s belly, swollen and pristine white. A delicate fissure revealed a glimpse of the


    golden treasures held within.


    No longer preupied with imparting a lesson to the crab, Millie sighed softly.


    “What a marvel it is to harbor thousands of little crabs within one womb


    In an instant, Millie experienced a sense of déja vu, as if her words had echoed from a previous


    moment.


    Recollection surged as Millie’s thoughts journeyed back to the previous night, when Marcus yfully


    mentioned her buttocks and the potential to bear many offspring. Strangely, she detected a shared


    undercurrent in these remarks, a logic that intertwined both instances. As this realization settled, Millie


    couldn’t help but yfully roll her eyes at him.


    “What upies your thoughts?” Marcus inquired, a mischievous Lilt in his voice.


    “Oh, nothing.” Millie blushed, concealing her embarrassment with a shake of her head.


    A soft snort of amusement escaped Marcus’ lips before his gaze fell upon Millie’s ankle-a canvas of


    ivory and tenderness, graced by a conspicuous bloodstain that rendered the injury all the more vivid


    against its pallid backdrop.


    “Do you possess any anti-inmmatory salves at your disposal? It is imperative you tend to your


    wound.”


    Millie nodded affirmatively. She rose from her seat and made her way to her chamber, returning with an


    ointment cradled in her hand. Seated gracefully, she poised herself upon a chair, intent on attending to


    her injury with the utmost care.


    Marcus settled into a seat beside her, his presence a reassuring anchor. Taking the ointment from her


    hand, his touch was as gentle as a whisper of wind on a summer’s day. Carefully, he guided her leg


    onto hisp, a gesture both tender and intimate.


    “Allow me to assist you,” Marcus whispered. He squeezed a small amount of the white ointment onto


    his fingertips. The coolness of the salve touched her skin like a soothing caress. Even his finger’s


    roughness was barely discernible as he applied it with tenderness.


    “Honey, when we age, will you care for me in my moments of injury?” Millie’s voice drifted, entranced


    by his gentleness. In such moments, she found herself consumed by affection for him, yearning for


    eternal happiness.


    “If I age, my skin will bear the markings of time, and my visage may lose its luster,” she mused, a


    thread of insecurity weaving through her words.


    “Silly, what thoughts upy your mind? My heart is eternally devoted to you, my love, regardless of the


    passage of years or the changes they bring.” Marcus reassured her, his patience unwavering.


    “Do you love me?”


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    Millie’s question hung in the air, and her brow creased in contemtion.


    “You believe I don’t hold affection for you?”


    Marcus’ perplexity manifested in his furrowed brows. He would even surrender to her every whim.


    However, her question danced within him, a puzzle he struggled to decipher.


    A shadow of guilt passed over Marcus as he met her gaze-those eyes that flickered with vulnerability.


    Her words struck a chord within him.


    “Remember when you forbade me from eating and refused to take me to Grandma’s birthday party?


    You called me a wicked woman, even threatening my life.”


    Millie recounted, her voice tinged with sadness. Memories of their turbulent past resurfaced, revealing


    a history of discord and animosity. Yet she, too, had once harbored resentment.


    Marcus realized the weight of her recollections and the gravity of her words. He felt a twinge of remorse


    and regret, acknowledging his own transgressions.


    He extended a heartfelt apology.