“Don’t look at me!” she snapped.
Theodore gritted his teeth. “Are you doing this on purpose?”
“What am I doing on purpose?”
“Making yourself look this miserable just to… make me angry!”
“If I’m so miserable, why are you angry? Shouldn’t you be gloating?”
Theodore didn’t answer. Instead, he dragged her a few steps back, away from the water’s edge. He then let her go, stepped back, and lit another cigarette.
Penelope’s head was spinning even more now, and this time, she couldn’t get up.
She curled into a ball, thinking hazily that Theodore wouldn’t just leave her here. He’d take her back. With that thought, she felt a sense of peace.
After finishing his cigarette, Theodore glanced over at Penelope. The woman who had been so insistent on leaving was now curled up and motionless.
He let out a heavy sigh, walked over, and gave her a gentle push. She tumbled right into his arms.
“So warm…” she murmured, snuggling deeper into his embrace.
Theodore was silent for a moment before he finally lifted her into his arms and carried her back to the villa.
He laid her on the bed, intending to call Lydia to help her get cleaned up.
But as he stood, he heard Penelope mumble, “I wasn’t wrong. I don’t regret it…”
Theodore’s brow furrowed, and he couldn’t help but ask, “Regret what?”
Leaving him?
“No regrets…”
He scoffed. So, she didn’t regret it. Still, after six years, there was one thing he desperately wanted to know.
“Penelope, do you still love me?”
“…”


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