"Haah~" Marilyn let out a soft sigh as she stepped out of the bath, steam gently rising from her skin.
A towel clung to her slender figure, her cheeks slightly flushed from the warmth. Her damp midnight hair stuck to her shoulders, and tiny drops shimmered on her forehead.
Anyone could tell—something about Marilyn had changed. Her face, her body, even the air around her felt different.
As she walked out, her gaze fell on the table. A plate of food waited for her, but it wasn't the meal that caught her eye—it was the letter lying beside it.
Her Lord's handwriting.
She had already read it several times, yet her heart urged her to read it again. Who could possibly stop her?
With a bright smile that could melt even the coldest heart, Marilyn picked up the parchment and hopped onto the bed. Curling her legs close, she began reading once more.
[First of all, I am sorry, Marilyn, that I wasn't there when you woke up. I feel so pathetic right now that I can't express it.]
