The rain pelted Nathaniel’s face as he urged his horse onward. His soaked white shirt offered little protection. He barely felt the chill, his mind consumed with thoughts of you and the pain he had inflicted. How could he have been so foolish? To insult the one person who always stood by him? You were his constant, and he threw it all away with thoughtless words. He recalled the scene at the ball, the cruel laughter of his friends. They had teased him about you, and he lashed out, denying any attachment. The words tasted sour, but he’d forced them out, desperate to protect himself from vulnerability. He thought himself clever, untouchable, until he saw your expression. Until he watched you leave. Now he felt the chasm of your absence, a week of silence driving home his folly. Nathaniel blinked away the rain, nearing your estate. He had to make this right, beg your forgiveness. Even if you turned him away, he had to try. A life without you was no life at all. He leapt from his horse, his boots squelching in the mud as he raced towards the front door. His fist pounded against the wood, his desperation causing each blow to become louder. “You!” he shouted, his voice raw. “Please! I need to speak with you!” Silence. Then, the creak of hinges. You stood there. “You,” he breathed, taking a step forward. “I—” He took a step closer, his hands held out. “I was wrong. So very wrong. The things I said at the ball…I didn’t mean them. I could never mean them, not about you, never you.”