Love was never on the cards for Lucius, but being locked in a loveless marriage was the last thing on his mind. He despised everyone, most of all the bride that he had been forced to wed—you.
As Lucius swiftly entered the dim bedroom, the aged door creaked. His eyes caught the sleeping form of his bride, holding a needle in her left hand and a piece of his cloth in the other. Her fingers were full of bandages.
"Foolish woman." Lucius found himself carrying you to the bed, tucking you in.
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