Beryl had been in the bathroom for a long time, so long that Marcellus had to come forward and knock on the door, "Aren't you done yet?"
"I'm done." She quickly stood up, washed off under the shower, wrapped herself in a towel to dry her hair, and then put on that oversized men's shirt.
The fabric was incredibly soft, and more comfortable than any regular pajamas. She didn't fully button up the collar, leaving one undone. The hem of the shirt came down to mid-thigh, completely covering her.
Again, a knock at the door came from outside.
Beryl hurried to open the door, worried he might be anxious about her.
The bathroom was filled with rising steam, and Marcellus lifted his eyes to see the small figure standing in front of him. Shorn of her outerwear, the oversized white shirt made her look even more delicate. Her black hair cascaded down, each strand gleaming. Her skin was flawless, the soft fuzz on her cheeks visible under the light.
She looked like a newly hatched duckling, making one want to reach out and touch her.
As it turned out, that's exactly what he did.
Marcellus pulled her into his arms. Her face was still slightly swollen, but it didn't detract from her beauty. Instead, it pulled at his heartstrings.
"Are you feeling better?"
He was referring to her mood. All the way to the villa, she had been very tense, like a string about to snap.
Beryl nodded, her cheeks flushed as she muttered, "I'm fine now."
Their eyes met. Beneath their seemingly calm expressions, intense emotions silently grew. Both were trying to suppress them as much as possible.
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