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Inside a bedroom in Evergreen Manor, which was a villa nestled among the mountains in Acreport, a man, swept up by passion, tenderly kissed the mole on a woman's chest.Once the storm of desire had passed, Howard Larson rolled to the side and sat up."Let's get a divorce." He spoke with no emotion in his voice. Still a little breathless after their intimacy, Megan Stafford turned to him, her bewildered eyes lifting to meet the depths of his gaze. They'd been married for a year now. At the moment, she had no idea what he meant by that. "She has stomach cancer and only has half a year left." Howard lit a cigarette, the spiraling smoke blurring his face. "Her only dying wish is to be my wife." Megan didn't respond, her silence filling the vast room. The glow of the faint bedside lamp cast their shadows on the wall, making their proximity seem like a distant divide. As if displeased that she didn't immediately agree, he frowned. "It's just to comfort her. Half a year later, we'll remarry. Megan, she only has six months left." His voice was calm, as though he were merely informing her about it. Megan stared blankly at his profile. His requests felt less like suggestions and more like royal edicts, binding her to his will. Yes, the relationship they had was something she had begged for. It started from a crush in her youth, and she followed him faithfully into adulthood. Back then, in the torrential rain, he stood in front of her. Armed only with a rotting piece of wood, he put his life on the line and exclaimed to her stepfather, "If you dare hurt Megan again, you'll have me to answer to!" She was a hair's breadth from a fatal beating. Through the torrent of rain and the crimson haze of her own blood, she saw his knuckles turn white as he gripped the piece of wood, his eyes cold and full of resolve. He'd saved her life, and that was how she fell hopelessly in love with him. She would always do anything he asked, giving her all to be better than anyone else.
