Unbelievable was one word for it. Tilda remembered the Amortentia letters - they'd luckily left her alone then, but that didn't stop her from hearing about the after-effects. If his name was mentioned to her, she'd simply lumped his situation in with all the others that she'd encountered and left it alone. In retrospect, she was berating herself for not paying more attention; clearly, she had not escaped the effects of the Amortentia letters. They'd found her somehow, and she was left reeling while they laughed in her face.

What a joke. Was this a joke?

Completely forgetting the state of undress she was in, Tilda dropped the blanket and turned to face the wall, face the fireplace, anywhere but face him. But his voice still reached her and she willed herself to process what he was saying. He hadn't even been with his wife for the entire pregnancy, and then she shows up out of nowhere on his doorstep in labor. Someone had to be having a laugh somewhere. Before him, Tilda hadn't allowed herself — hadn't thought that anyone would show any sort of feelings towards her given her family's status. Then along came Mr. Scamander and every trouble, every worry she had seemed to slowly dissolve like a fine, elegant mist. Until, of course, it solidified again and slapped her in the face.

Married. With a son and not intending - no - not able to divorce for another six months.

Having paced so much it was a surprise she hadn't trodden a path into the floor of their cabin, Tilda finally sank down, ignoring the slow-burning on her leg from the injury. In a way, it had helped to clear her mind. But only slightly. Head in her hands, the witch shook her head. "I've been so stupid." she muttered. So stupid.

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