When There Is Nothing Left But Love

I knew he was asking about Sharon, so I hid my sadness away and replied, “She’s been sent to the funeral parlor.”

Although I did not witness her final moment, I had overheard the conversation of those who had. As she had fallen from such great height, their description of her final appearance was that she was crushed beyond recognition.

For a brief moment, I could even imagine it.

He nodded, an abnormally distant look in his eyes. When he looked at the soup I brought, he asked, “Do you only have soup?”

I froze, not used to his calmness after going through such tragedy. Then I nodded before shaking my head. “What do you want to eat? I’ll buy it right away.”

“It’s fine. I’ll take that.” He took the soup from me and began drinking it like he normally would. It was as though he had not just gone through a tragedy several hours ago.

His unusual reaction worried me, but I did not know how to console him. “What else do you want to eat? I can buy it for you.”

He paused his motion and shook his head. After a beat, his gaze landed on me. “Have you eaten?”

I stiffened, but shook my head. “I’m not hungry.”

He put down the bowl before he stood up and grabbed his jacket. Looking at me, he uttered, “Let’s go. Let’s grab a bite and a walk.”

As he dragged me out of the hospital, I stared at his towering figure, unable to spot anything different about him from the usual.

However, there was one thing that was different—his gaze. He had a murderous gaze, and that was something he never had. It was hatred—deep hatred.

I was shocked by it. Where did that come from?

before suggesting, “Marcus, let’s go to Central Park. I’ll

crowded, I was sure that it would only

hands on the steering wheel visibly tensing, he glanced at me. “Why aren’t we going to the

set in a hard line. “The White family has maids, and I won’t get to cook when I’m there.” Then, I tentatively asked, “You want to go

he started driving

had been a long while

after peeking into the fridge before I said, “Give me a moment. I’m

“I’ll come with you.”

faint smile, I shook my

a little longer.

already late, there were not many groceries in the supermarket. After picking

longer in the living room. After I

him, and he seemed like he was typing something

looked

a smile. “I’m making pasta. It’ll be done in

he gave

the situation, for his reactions would worry anyone else, too. He did not seem depressed or melancholic. It really was as

seemed like Sharon had

was done with the pasta, I turned around, about to get him to eat. To my shock, he was leaning against the doorframe, arms

covering my back from the shock, I

dissipated, and he asked, “Are you done with the