❝ 𝐈𝐒𝐍'𝐓 𝐈𝐓 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐘? 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄. ❞
▶ 𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 your morals will be tested along with your loyalty.
Being given the chance to finally be free from the shackles he put on himself was something [M.Name] didn't think woul...
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CHAPTER 04
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❝ OH, I HOPE SOMEDAY I'LL MAKE IT OUT OF HERE ❞
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ♡︎♡︎♡︎ BREAKFAST WAS QUIET as usual, only the sound of metal utensils scraping and hitting against the surface of glass plates. There was no one else in the dining room with us, not a maid or a butler, not one of the quadruplets were present, just Muzan and I in our silence.
While I wonder about him and how his day went, he was probably thinking of someone else. He was just right beside me yet he was so far away from me. I could always feel his presence but I could never feel his heart. When will I ever get the taste of his love?
Muzan suddenly stood up. I hardly registered that he was already done eating, but it was no shock for me anymore. He didn't spare me a glance as he wiped his mouth with a cloth and took his briefcase from the empty seat opposite me.
Then, for the first time in my whole life, my heart seemed to act on its own. My hands let go of my silverware as I immediately looked up at my departing husband, trying to mask the desperate feeling inside of me that only grew as time passed.
"Muzan," I called him, his name rolling off my tongue like smoke from a cigarette. It was poisonous and it burns, but I loved it. My husband turned to me with a shocked expression, and I gulped.
"Will you come home tonight?" I asked, one part of me was hoping that he'd say yes and we'd get to spend time together, but the other half already knew what his answer would be.
"Of course," he answered, "I'm not that busy for today so I'll be able to spend some time with my darling."
My heart leapt with joy, but I continued to mask my feelings. I put on a small smile for him, quickly leaving my seat and walking to where he stood still. My hands came up to his necktie that was sloppily done, fixing it as I looked at his blood red eyes.
