He gently secured the door, and the room, spacious as it was, echoed only with the soft rhythm of their breaths.

After what felt like hours, Cecilia murmured, "Mark, please release me. We can't just be physical to mend what's broken between us."

Mark gave a soft scoff.

His fingers, light and nimble, traced her waist.

“What makes you think that?" he whispered, a hint of mischief in his voice.

Feeling flushed, she was all too aware of his intentions.

Mark leaned in, planting a tender kiss behind her ear before speaking softly, "Stay tonight. Once I'm discharged, I'll accompany you to Warsew. We'll return after your shoot."

It wasn't like his words didn't touch her heart; they did.

However, she felt like a puppet in his hands whenever he was Like this. She had already decided against Warsew, and she had no plans to stay the night either. With the mood so intimate, she was wary of what might happen if she stayed.

She decided to linger a bit before heading to her place.

Her children were at the Fowler family's mansion, leaving her with a rare evening alone. She wanted to unwind.

Cecilia ordered some grub, uncorked a bottle of red, and put on a track from her favorite Flirean artist.

As she sipped, it dawned on her-she hadn't truly relaxed in ages.

Her life revolved around Mark and their children.

She pondered, wondering if her commitment to acting was a way to distract herself from thinking of Mark.

Time had swiftly passed.

Turning, she took in the city view from her Large window, mesmerized by the vibrant lights.

Suddenly, her heart felt lighter, realizing that Mark's survival was a gift in itself.

It allowed her moments like these, to sit back and cherish life.

Tears formed in her eyes.