The evening was already somewhat of a somber once, but this conversation served to only sink her smile a little further. It seemed that, despite their optimism and their attempts to move forward as a family, they had seen tragedies that would have crushed others. She wished she could have been that strong. She wished she could have moved forward and taken the pain without making a public spectacle of herself. She wished—

She had many wishes, really—so many regrets she wished she could undo, so many relationships she wished she could mend, and so many opportunities she wished she'd have taken while she had the chance. Who knew? She could have been Mrs. Annabelle Gladstone, living a secluded life of luxury in Ireland if she hadn't rejected the man who claimed feelings deeper than friendship for her. She could have been a full healer by now if she'd written Mr. Jameshill when he'd inquired about her whereabouts.

There were so many things she could have been—but now, she was just Bella. Miss Scrimgeour to some, though it wasn't a surname she wore proudly. She was too awkward, too regretful to wear the Draper surname with pride, and now all she could do was awkwardly introduce herself to new acquaintances by her given name with the hopes that others wouldn't recognize her.

"But emotionally?" she asked, looking up at him in a way that could almost be called tenderly. "It's not one of those things you an move on from. I know. I've been there."

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