Maeve was stunned. "This design is a little like..." she thought, hesitating. She picked up the box and opened it.

A pair of glowing, Mobius ring-shaped diamond rings rested inside. The light stung Maeve's eyes. She remembered Byron's words from last time: no wedding, his relationship with Lynn wasn't what she thought. Although she'd claimed disbelief, she'd still held onto some hope—perhaps he had difficulties he couldn't explain, as before. She decided to trust him again, to give them both one last chance.

Maeve clenched her fingers, the brocade box's edge digging into her palm, unnoticed. She stared at the rings, dazed. "He even prepared wedding rings? How will he explain this? How silly of me to believe him!" Tears welled up, accompanied by a stabbing pain. With a snap, she closed the box, regaining control, and returned it to its place. The pain in her palm lingered; for a moment, she couldn't tell if it was her hand or her heart aching—then realized it was both.

Numbly, she rose. She wanted to leave, but instead went to Will's room. Will usually meditated before bed, but he was tired that day and had fallen asleep on his yoga mat. Maeve approached him. Seeing the book before him, her gaze softened. "No wonder the little guy knows so much," she thought. "He reads a lot. He needs a meditation drum; I'll buy him one."

Gently, she lifted Will, intending to put him back in bed. He woke immediately, relaxing upon seeing her and hugging her neck affectionately. "Mom..." he murmured. "It's the smell of Mom," he thought.

Maeve's heart ached. She kissed his forehead. "Goodnight, baby." Since the kidnapping, Will slept poorly, waking at the slightest sound. Theo attributed this to insecurity and fear of separation.

Maeve settled him, tucked him in, and was about to leave when Byron leaned against the doorway, watching. Her heart skipped a beat. Maintaining composure, she exited, closing the door before saying, "I'm going back."

"Maeve, you seem to care too much about Will," Byron said from behind her. "He's someone else's child, after all."

Maeve stopped and turned. "What are you trying to say?"

Byron's gaze was intense. "Why didn't I know you liked children so much? Or should I say, Will is an exception?"

His probing words tired her. She was too weary to think, too weary to hide anything anymore.

"That's right," she said softly. "I like Will, and I like Leo. I even liked you four years ago. But what does that prove?"

A long-held burden lifted. Byron's pupils constricted. He hadn't expected that answer. His body tensed. "What did you just say?" he asked. She liked me before? he thought.

Maeve, lost in her own emotions, didn't notice his reaction. She was simply tired.

"Byron," she said, "you don't have to keep testing me. I haven't forgotten I was pregnant with your child four years ago. But don't forget you ended our relationship—and the relationship with our child," she added, her lips pale. "So... it's best if we don't meet again. Otherwise, I'll keep remembering those unhappy times. I'll even think I'm a despicable person interfering in other people's lives. Even considering my past feelings for you, can we at least save each other a little dignity and avoid making me feel so uncomfortable again?"

All her strength seemed to drain away. She didn't look at Byron's expression—she knew he thought she was crazy. I am crazy, she thought. I went crazy when I fell for him. She pursed her lips and left with heavy steps.

Only after the door closed did Byron recover from the shock of Maeve's words. His eyes were like a storm-tossed sea. What did she say? She liked me four years ago? Does that mean she doesn't now? What did she mean by saying I ended our relationship and the child's? He pressed his hand to his forehead, trying to quell his turmoil. If I'm right, she's blaming me, disappointed, and ready to give up. What happened?

The next day, Maeve brought Tom to the studio. Although a bodyguard, she gave him basic work, fearing idleness might lead to him harming himself. He was quiet, a bit afraid of the new environment, a pushover—except he made excellent coffee, exclusively for Maeve.

Near noon, after Maeve finished her coffee, Paige announced Lynn's arrival. Maeve, momentarily dazed, was prompted by Paige to invite Lynn to the fitting room; the wedding dress was nearly finished.

Maeve rubbed her temples and went to meet Lynn, noticing a change. Usually dressed in elegant princess-like attire, Lynn wore a dark blue riding suit, appearing heroic and decisive. Lynn smiled. "Maeve."

"Miss Anderson," Maeve replied. "Your dress is almost ready. Let's see if anything needs adjusting."

Lynn hesitated. "Why don't we try it after lunch? Are you almost finished? May I treat you to a meal?" She didn't really want the dress anymore.