"So you're agreeing." Travis Miller seemed like he didn't want to dwell too much on this topic, wrapping it up directly.
Abigail Hemsworth's voice was firm and clear, "Yes, I agree to marry you."
Travis nodded, staring at her for a moment, then suddenly reached out to pinch her chin, "Remember my phone number?"
"Why ask that all of a sudden?"
Though she seemed like a spoiled Miss Wealthy, her memory was undeniably good.
But that was only for what she wanted to remember.
Travis's phone number, she naturally recalled.
"Forget all the people and things in your mind that shouldn't be there."
Abigail raised an eyebrow, "Didn't remember much anyway."
Travis's fingers lightly stroked her chin for a while, "For the next ten days to half a month, I will be with you, but this is the only time. I won't accept any instance of you hurting yourself. If it happens, go to the hospital yourself."
"Any instance? Am I really going to become a porcelain doll?"
"Yes, a porcelain doll."
