"Please eat. You've barely had anything today. And what about your legs? Do they hurt?"

Waylen shook his head. But Rena, attuned to his needs, saw through the facade.

She wanted to rub his legs.

Waylen didn*t allow her to do so. He looked at her and said, bad in the past that you couldn't be a pianist anymore. And now I have a problem with my legs. Think of it as my compensation to you." was so

Amidst their exchange, a flicker of frustration colored Rena‘'s expression.

He had never intended to make a full recovery on his legs. So it was the reason?

“Waylen, I don't need such a compensation from you! You're not alone in this journey, You're a husband and a father. How can you hold me and the children if you don't get treatment?"

Affection shone in Waylen's gaze, his eyes an affirmation of his love.

Rena lay on his lap and murmured, “I really don't want such a compensation. It will only make me worry about you. Waylen, don't use the trick of injuring yourself, please."

Waylen's voice was hoarse. He whispered, “Rena, I'm afraid you'll be unhappy."

He had regained his memory. He was not sure that their relationship in Rena's heart was still the same as before, so he... He did use a self- injury trick, but Rena easily saw it through.

“You're too smart." Rena didn't say anything more.

As she nestled against him, she murmured, “Waylen, let's age without regrets, as Jarrod wished. Let's love each other, day after day, and let our actions speak the words we hold in our hearts."

Waylen's heart swelled, a deep gratitude for her presence settling over him.

With a heartfelt promise, he agreed, his voice carrying an unspoken vow.

Later, Rena coaxed him to finish the meal and intended to apply heat to his legs with a warm towel.

Waylen wanted to joke with her, but the death of Jarrod weighed heavy in his mind. At last, he smiled faintly.

As night draped the world in its inky embrace, Rena succumbed to slumber, her breathing a gentle rhythm of peace.

In the quiet of the night, Waylen found himself drawn to a photograph tucked away in a drawer.

The image before him bore a striking resemblance to Rena, yet it wasn't her.

The woman captured in the frame was Zoey of Czanch, Mark and Reina's mother.

In the soft glow of the room, Waylen's gaze lingered on the photograph, his thoughts a private whisper to the past.