Rosie wanted little to do with this goodbye. Not because she was angry or uninterested, but because she was extremely concerned for his well-being and knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she would have no resolution for such concern. He would either be well or he wouldn't and, since she tore everything to shreds between them, she had no say in the matter.

She shouldn't care as much as she did anyway. Ezra was the one who had omitted the curse and waited until she was absolutely besotted with him to chance telling her. He was the one regularly dancing with debutantes and carrying on with his hunt to find a wife as though they had never happened or mattered. She shouldn't care what happened to him anymore — truthfully, for awhile she thought she might've finally stopped but tonight had shattered all illusions.

And yet, it didn't matter to anyone that she still cared.

"Of course not." Who would believe her anyway? Ezra so regularly appeared as the charming man she knew him to be, all anyone would hear was a jealous woman. "I sincerely hope you look after yourself." Rosie added as she folded her arms tightly across her chest. She wanted to ask him to write her when he was well again, just for the sense of closure. To do so though opened an avenue that was best to remain closed.

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