Owen Moreland turned off the lights and pulled his little wife, who was compassionate yet couldn't cook, into his arms in bed.
He gently combed her hair to the other side, lifted her head to rest on his arm, and carefully tucked the quilt around her neck, wrapping her up until only her little head was exposed.
Amelia Clarke liked to wrap herself up tightly when she slept, in a way that was completely airtight.
The room temperature was warm, so there was no need to be so bundled up; it was probably because she grew up in a single-parent family and lacked a sense of security, wrapping herself up tightly provided that sense of safety.
The next day was Monday.
Owen Moreland, as per usual, took Amelia Clarke to Bordine University.
Just before getting out of the car, Amelia Clarke had just unbuckled her seatbelt when she suddenly sneezed.
Owen Moreland knitted his brows.
Amelia Clarke hastily said, "I'm fine, it's just that my nose is a bit itchy—ah—choo!"
