“Millie, what has transpired?” Marcus’ voice reverberated, infused with genuine concern.


    “Darling, my constitution doth throb with pain. Rhea…” Millie’s eyes welled up with tears, were fixed


    upon Rhea, who grimaced in affliction. “It’s of no concern to me. Millie, you wretch.”


    “Rhea, unless you yearn for a flight off the balcony, I urge you to depart. Immediatel:


    Marcus’ index finger pointed towards the exit with resolute authority. “Marcus,” Rhea contested.


    Marcus’ motion was resolute, his gaze metamorphosing into an abyss of menace.


    With eyes brimming with tears, Rhea relented, spiraling and dashing towards the Lower reaches.


    Millie straightened, exhaling a sigh imbued with relief. At Last, she had driven Rhea away. Watching


    her retreat in chagrin and defeat bestowed upon Millie a surge of gratification


    She was cognizant of Rhea’s susceptibility to Marcus’ sentiments. A mere “depart” issued by Marcus


    equated to a seismic denunciation in Rhea’s estimation.


    “Were you not gued by a stomachache?” Marcus observed Millie’s recuperation, the pallor of


    difort vanishing from her visage, reced by an aura of normalcy.


    A trace of mirth glimmered in Marcus’ eyes as he scrutinized the rapid shift from agonized to


    composed.


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    “Well, earlier, the agony was most keen, yet now I’m on the mend,”


    Millie responded. Her jest, it appeared, had been unmasked, leaving Millie tinged with an undertone of


    chagrin.


    Averting her gaze, Millie sidestepped Marcus’ path and gravitated towards a recliner nestled on the


    balcony. There, beneath the canopy of stars, she found repose.


    Nevertheless, Marcus pursued his course.


    “What would you like to eat? I shall enlist Derek’s aid to bring it forthwith,” Marcus ventured.


    Surveying the time, Millie apprehended that the clock’s hands had advanced to the eighth hour of the


    evening.


    “The hour is quite advanced. I shall manage on my own,” she asserted. While fashioning a beverage


    earlier, she had observed provisions nestled within the refrigerator.


    Marcus’ intent was clear: he had fabricated a pretext to evade Mylo and hisrades, striving to


    safeguard an interval of solitude with Millie.


    In truth, the pangs of hunger eluded Millie’s constitution. Yet her ardor for Marcus impelled her to


    undertake the culinary endeavor, despite her own indisposition.


    The timeless wisdom held true-the route to a man’s affection coursed through his taste buds.


    Enveloped in the allure of her affection for Marcus, Millie found herself so captivated that she felt an


    insistentpulsion to prepare a meal for him, even amidst her own state of difort.


    “You’re prohibited from cooking,” Marcus proimed, tenderly retracting Millie’s frame and sitting into


    the recliner himself, his embrace enveloping her in its secure cocoon.


    Kneading her temples, Millie discerned the predilection Marcus exhibited for this intimate embrace. In


    this setting, he was prone to a semnce of overbearance.