Maeve was stunned. "This design is a little like..." she thought, hesitating before picking up and opening the box.

Inside, a pair of glowing Mobius ring-shaped diamond rings lay quietly, stinging Maeve's eyes. Byron had told her there was no wedding, that his relationship with Lynn wasn't what she thought. Though she claimed disbelief, she'd held onto some hope, imagining perhaps he faced untold difficulties. She decided to trust him again, to give them both one last chance.

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

Numbly, she rose. She wanted to leave but instead went to Will's room. Will usually meditated before bed, but tonight he'd fallen asleep on his yoga mat, exhausted. Maeve approached him. Seeing the book before him, her gaze softened. "No wonder the little guy always knows so much," she thought. "He reads a lot. Does he need a meditation drum? I'll buy him one next time."

Gently, she lifted Will to put him back in bed. He woke immediately, relaxed on seeing Maeve, and hugged her neck affectionately. "Mom..." he murmured. "It's the smell of Mother," he thought.

Maeve's heart ached. She kissed his forehead. "Goodnight, baby." Since the kidnapping, Will slept poorly, waking at the slightest sound—insecurity and fear of separation, Theo explained. Maeve stayed with him, tucking him in, then prepared to leave.

Byron leaned against the door, watching. Maeve's heart leaped. Maintaining composure, she exited, closing the door before saying, "I'm going back."

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

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

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

His probing tired her. She was too weary to hide it anymore. "That's right," she said softly. "I like Will, and I like Leo. I even liked you four years ago. But what does this prove?"

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

Lost in her emotions, Maeve 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, including the child's relationship with you." Her pale lips moved. "So... it's best if we don't meet again. Otherwise, I'll remember those unhappy pasts, think of myself as despicable for interfering in your life. Even if I once liked you, can we save each other a bit of dignity and avoid this discomfort?"

She felt drained, her heart empty. She didn't look at Byron; she knew he thought she was crazy. "I am crazy," she thought. "I went crazy when I fell in love with him." She left, her steps heavy.

Only after the door closed did Byron recover from the shock. His eyes were a stormy sea, the light above extinguished. What did Maeve say? She liked me four years ago? Does that mean she doesn't now? What did she mean by I ended our relationship and the child's? He pressed his hand to his brow, suppressing his emotions. If I'm right, she's blaming me, disappointed, and giving up. What happened?

The next day, Maeve brought Tom to the studio. Though a bodyguard, she gave him simple tasks, fearing idleness might lead to despair. He was quiet, compliant, a virtual pushover—except he made excellent coffee, exclusively for Maeve.

Near noon, after Maeve finished her coffee, Paige announced Lynn's arrival. Maeve, after a moment's daze, asked Paige to show Lynn to the fitting room; the wedding dress was nearly complete.

Rubbing her temples, Maeve went to meet Lynn, noticing a change. Usually dressed in fashionable finery, Lynn wore a dark blue riding suit, looking heroic and valiant.

Lynn smiled. "Maeve."

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

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.