Married a Secret Billionaire

“Sure!” Morpheus readily agreed. After a moment of being stunned, he chuckled to himself, wondering if he had agreed too quickly.

Persephone pressed her lips together, pushing the stray strands of hair away from her forehead.

Meanwhile, Morpheus hastily rushed into his room, squatted in front of a cabinet in the corner, and rummaged through it for a while.

Being alone for so long, he realized he didn’t have anything presentable to give her as a memento. There were either old boxing gloves or sportswear. On the balcony lay dumbbells and punching bags. He discovered that besides these, he had nothing else to offer.

He sighed softly and eventually came across an old photo—probably his only one. The photo was slightly yellowed. He was in military attire, his gaze resolute and confident. Morpheus froze, his hand trembling slightly. After a while, he stuffed the photo back deep into the drawer.

–

The next day, he took Persephone shopping, hoping to buy her something. He mentioned not having any souvenirs and suggested she pick something herself.

The weather was good that day, but Persephone’s mood wasn’t as high-spirited. She counted the days until leaving Flinge in her mind.

and the time she had with Morpheus was dwindling second by second. Suddenly, she felt like a terminal patient, hopelessly

her from feeling the hot sun outside. It was a weekday, so there were few

walked behind Morpheus, keeping half a body’s distance from him. She gazed at his tall, straight figure, angular profile, prominent nose… She observed how he walked, exuding a confident air, and how the sleeves of his T-shirt hinted

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would just be

for his hand, but he turned

brought her to a boutique.

at a bag displayed in the storefront, asking if she wanted

shook