Clara reacted first. She rose at once and stepped forward, placing herself between Beatrice and the chamber.

"If you’re here to cause trouble again," she said sharply, "then I suggest you turn back now. I will not allow it."

Ayden stood as well, his expression firm as he moved to stand beside his wife.

"She’s right," he added. "You’ve done quite enough already."

Beatrice did not respond.

Her gaze remained lowered, her breathing uneven. The faint redness in her eyes had yet to fade, and when she inhaled, a soft sniff followed despite her effort to compose herself.

Garin’s expression shifted. Concern surfaced almost immediately.

He took a step forward.

"What—"

"Stay where you are." Ayden’s arm shot out, blocking him without hesitation.

"I won’t let her near you," he said.

Garin frowned slightly.

Before he could respond, Rachel stepped forward.

"She is not here to cause trouble," she remarked, "My sister has something she wishes to speak about with Sir Skyler."

A pause.

"In private," she added.

Ayden answered first.

"Whatever it is, it can be said here," he replied firmly. "Sir Skyler is my patient. I will not allow any situation that might put him at risk."

Clara gave a small nod in agreement. She and her husband disliked the idea of Garin being left alone with the company head, especially given how harsh and disrespectful she had been to the knight.

Beatrice remained silent, her fingers tightening slightly at her sides.

Garin’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, taking in her state, the quiet strain in her posture.

Then he spoke.

"That will be all. She may come in."

Ayden turned sharply, eyes wide. "Are you serious?"

"I said that will be all," Garin repeated, his tone calm, but no less firm. "There’s no need to prolong this. She has something to say, and I’ll let her. You all... please leave."

Ayden and Clara did not move initially. For a moment, the two stood in quiet opposition.

Then—

"Leave it," Garin added, more quietly this time, upon seeing their refusal.

Ayden exhaled, clearly unwilling.

"...You’re making a poor decision," he muttered.

"Perhaps," the knight replied. "But it is mine to make."

Clara adhered but hesitated, glancing once more at Beatrice before passing by the threshold.

In the meantime, the assistant healer lingered a moment longer, then finally withdrew, though not without a final warning look.

"You call if anything happens," he said. "I’ll be right behind the door."

Garin gave no response.

The tension in the chamber shifted as the two stepped aside.

At last, there was space between them.

***

Ayden planted his hands on his waist, his foot tapping impatiently against the floor.

The door had already been shut, leaving him no chance to catch even a glimpse of what was happening inside.

He turned, ready to question Rachel, but a group of ladies approached from the hallway.

"Is she in? Have they started talking?" Sylvia asked, holding onto Meredith and Emily as they made their way over.

Both of the pregnant ladies moved carefully with their large bellies, while Sylvia guided them. It was obvious they had let Rachel and Beatrice go ahead first.

Clara’s expression shifted the moment she saw them.

"You all agree with this?" she asked, in disbelief.

Sylvia raised a hand gently, cutting in before the tension could rise further.

"This is important."

Ayden frowned, clearly unconvinced. His wife also gave the same impression, her eyes flickering towards the closed door.

Meredith stepped forward slightly, her voice soft but resolute. "It would be best to give them a moment to settle what lies between them."

A brief silence settled over the pair. Reluctance lingered, but not refusal.

At last, Ayden exhaled, though his impatience had not faded.

"What is going on in there?" he asked, brows drawn together.

But before anyone could explain, he suddenly straightened.

"That’s it," he declared. "I’m going to eavesdrop."

Before anyone could stop him, the assistant healer stepped up to the door and pressed his ear against it.

Meredith blinked, taken aback. "Mr Norman! You really shouldn’t—"

"Shush! I can’t just leave it," he cut in, raising a finger to his lips.

He leaned in again, shifting slightly as he tried to catch even the faintest sound, but nothing came.

Then, he tilted his head and drew back from the thick wood.

"D*mn... why can’t I hear anything?"

"Leave it, Mr Norman. Can’t you give them some privacy?" Meredith requested.

"Why would I?" Ayden responded, turning to the lady-in-waiting. "What if she killed him?"

Sylvia let out a quiet sigh, rubbing her temple.

"You’re exaggerating," she said flatly. "Be reasonable. Sir Skyler is more than capable of handling her himself. He’s not going to be slain by a lady half his size."

Ayden frowned, still glued to the door. "She’s already hurt him before."

"That’s because he allows it," the noble lady replied without missing a beat. "And if anything, her anger stems from resentment, which, given what we know, is based on a good reason."

Clara, who had been watching the exchange with growing curiosity, turned to them.

"Then what exactly happened between those two?" she asked.

Emily glanced between them before answering, almost too casually—

"They were once betrothed."

Ayden’s head snapped away from the door.

"What?" he said, eyes widening. "Since when?"

He stepped back, momentarily abandoning his attempt to eavesdrop as the conversation took hold.

"How did I not know about this?"

Meredith gave him a look—calm, but not without a hint of amusement.

"You and Dame Verns are newly wed, far too occupied with each other to notice the whispers spreading through the household. The truth is... Sir Skyler left Lady Perna at the altar on their wedding day."

"What?!" Clara and Ayden exclaimed in unison.

Ayden stepped forward at once, eyes wide with disbelief. "You must be joking! Fill me in! I need to know this! I’ve never heard of such a thing!"

"Well..." Sylvia began, glancing toward Rachel. "It would be best if Lady Navin explains."

All eyes turned to her.

Rachel drew in a quiet breath before recounting the story—from the quiet courtship that had blossomed alongside her own, the decision to hold a small and private ceremony, and the sudden, inexplicable absence on the wedding day.

She spoke of the search that followed, of finding Garin in a tavern, and of the reason he had given, that he was unable to let go of his past.

Then, she told them about the mysterious letter, which explained the truth that had been buried for so long.

Based on the explanation, the incident between Garin and Beatrice had occurred before Ayden served under Rafe. When Rachel finished, a silence had fallen, stunning the assistant healer and his wife.

Clara’s hand rose to her lips. "I... I can’t believe this..."

"Who might the writer of the letter be?" Ayden wondered, scratching his chin.

Before another word could follow, a sound broke from within the chamber.

A sharp, unrestrained cry reached their ears.

Ayden’s head snapped toward the door. "That didn’t sound right! Something is happening! Dear Lord—"

Anxiously, he rushed forward, pushed the unlocked door open, and barged in. The others followed.

And then, they stopped.

Before their eyes, Beatrice stood within Garin’s arms.

Her face was buried against his chest, her shoulders trembling as loud cries escaped her.

The knight held her firmly, one hand at her back, the other cradling her head as though afraid she might break if he let go.

Ayden’s mouth fell open. The others stood frozen, caught between shock and disbelief by the scene.

But Garin paid them no mind. To him, nothing beyond the woman in his arms held meaning in that moment.

"I’m sorry..." he murmured. "I couldn’t bear to see you hurt."

His grip tightened slightly.

"If I had gone through with the wedding... they would have spoken," he continued, his words unsteady yet resolute. "Your position would’ve been ruined, and it would have cast doubt on Rachel and Eric’s union as well."

His gaze faltered briefly.

"At that time, I had no title. No standing. Nothing to offer."

He exhaled slowly.

"If I had become part of your family then... I would not have been your equal. I would have been seen as a man clinging upward, dragging you down with me."

"No! That couldn’t be!" Beatrice denied, eyes brimming with tears.

"Yes, it is. You had only just begun to rise... everything you built, everything you endured, it would have been questioned and tarnished. I would have reduced your name to something others could ridicule."

"How could you think to do that without telling me?" she asked.

Her grip tightened against his sleeve.

"You could have come to me... you could have said something," she continued, her voice wavering with restrained hurt. "Do you think I would have turned away from you because of that?"

Garin held her gaze, his expression tightening.

"That is exactly why I couldn’t," he said quietly.

A brief silence followed.

"I knew you," he continued. "If I had told you... you would have insisted on going through with the marriage anyway."

His voice lowered.

"You would have risked everything without hesitation."

Beatrice’s lips parted slightly, but no words came, only tears.

"And I couldn’t allow that," Garin added.

The weight of his words lingered in the air.

"Oh, Garin!" Beatrice’s body shook hard from the tears. "Why... why only now? Why only now are you telling me?"

"God knows how much I wanted to tell you everything so badly, Bea!" he continued, "Again and again... I tried. But when the moment came... I couldn’t."

His hand trembled slightly.

"So I hid behind my past grief and duty. I used them as excuses... because I did not dare to face you. And as time passed, seeing you rise... seeing Rachel and Eric’s union flourish... it only convinced me that my silence had been the right choice... even if it meant losing you."

Beatrice continued to cry, her sobs quiet but unrelenting. Behind them, Rachel’s vision blurred, tears welling up despite her effort to steady herself.

The letter had spoken the truth. Now everything made sense.

Eric and Garin were bonded not only as comrades but also as friends. So, it was no surprise that the third-in-command knight would do anything to make his companion happy.

Even Ayden, who had rushed in with suspicion, stood still—his expression softening, and his eyes glistening.

Beatrice pulled back slowly. Her eyes were red.

Garin’s expression softened, something deeper surfacing.

"But now..."

His voice lowered.

"I have earned my place. And when I saw you again... I realised nothing had changed."

A faint, pained smile formed on his lips.

"My feelings for you... never faded."

Beatrice’s fingers tightened against his sleeve.

For a moment, she said nothing, only lowering her gaze, her lips pressed together as she struggled to steady the rising emotion.

Then—

"If that is true... if your apology is sincere... and if you still love me..."

A breath caught in her chest, but she lifted her head, her voice steady as she demanded, "Then, don’t turn away this time."

Her fingers grasped tighter as Garin looked at her with a questioning expression in response to her remarks.

"You cannot return the years I’ve lost... but you can choose not to waste what remains."

Her eyes met his fully, tears falling anew, yet her gaze no longer wavered.

"Marry me. Honour the promise you have yet to fulfil."