Steal the Child of the Terminally Ill
“Are you going to leave your child with a terminally ill mother?”
The future that the magic mirror, a relic from my parents, showed me was horrifying. A future where I would be a terminally ill mother and my husband’s mistress would demand that I leave my child behind. We’re not even married yet, so maybe we can avoid that unhappy future.
You, who resemble the cold snowy fields of the north, cannot hold me. So why are your eyes so hot as you look at me as we speak of parting?
“When the old duke dies, we will part ways.”
“If we don’t have kids, we’ll be fine, right? So don’t even think about divorce. Just stay by my side.”
I felt the warmth of your lips on mine as you carefully moved closer. But the deep kiss was just the beginning of a long night ahead.