As the words lingered, a faint blush tinted Rena's cheeks. After all, their dream had seen passionate encounters within that very apartment.

Mentioning it now carried implications.

Cradling the box, Rena swayed closer, her lips finding his in a tender kiss before her fingers grazed his handsome features, her agreement silently conveyed.

Joy surged within Waylen, though a Lingering question tugged at him.

Embracing Rena, he asked softly, “Rena, am I more significant to you than Harold?"

Three children bound them together.

But Waylen's concerns lingered on gains and losses.

Rena, attuned to his care, basked in his affection.

Descending for dinner, she asked in a concerned voice, “Are your Legs alright?"

Waylen scooped her up gently, his reply a blend of playfulness and reassurance.

“If I can carry you downstairs, my legs must be in fine form."

A playful thump met his words.

“Let me down. Your parents are here.”

“No. We are a legitimate couple."

Waylen's murmur preceded a tender kiss, passion evident in his eyes.

Juliette and Korbyn, accustomed to their affection, barely blinked at the display downstairs.

Yet, another figure was present.

It was Mark.

Snow dusted the man as he entered, his gaze capturing the charged scene. His scoff dripped with sarcasm as he said, “Ah, Waylen, age hasn't diminished your romance."

Unbeknownst to all, Waylen's memories had fully returned.

Seating Rena gently, Waylen said with a smile, “Mark, I'm only 35."

Mark's unease was palpable.