Following a prolonged silence, a figure appeared at the bedroom door.

Marcus, having just concluded his shower, nonchalantly donned a white bathrobe. Leaning against the door, he observed her and remarked, “The ice cream is on the verge of melting.”

Snapping back to reality, she whispered, "I'll head to the kitchen to indulge."

“Sit in the dining room. After savoring your treat, you can resume cooking."

Thankfully, once he concluded his instructions, he retreated to the main bedroom. Subsequently, the muffled sounds of music and dialogue emanated from within, indicating his choice of movie.

Melissa inhaled audibly.

Clutching the ice cream, she ambled to the table, took a seat, and meticulously unfolded the box.

The smooth and creamy flavor deviated from her accustomed experience.

She savored it in small, deliberate spoonfuls, ensuring none of it went to waste.

The ice cream proved substantial and was meant to be shared by two.

Melissa devoured it entirely though.

As she prepared the mutton, a sudden wave of pain gripped her stomach. Unable to endure any longer, she made her way to the bedroom door and uttered weakly, "Mr. Fowler, I'm not feeling well.

Can I leave early?"

Marcus, reclining against the headboard while engrossed in a movie, lifted his head upon hearing her.

His brows furrowed as he queried, "What's the matter?"

A flush adorned her face. She vaguely mentioned needing rest, but concealing it from Marcus proved futile. He rose from the bed, scrutinized her, and noticed bloodstains on the back of her dress.

"Is it that time of the month for you?"

His tone softened and became gentler than ever before.

However, Melissa was in too much pain to register it.

Overwhelmed with embarrassment, she clutched her canvas bag, attempting to conceal herself as she sought to leave.