11#11

11

One day, I was awakened by the sound of people gathering outside. I ventured out to find Wyatt bare-chested, his back marked with intersecting wounds from self-punishment. He was kneeling at the Harrington estate's entrance, head lowered, as a group of spectators murmured and gestured.

"Savannah, I was mistaken," he called out, his voice quavering. "I've committed awful, inexcusable errors. I'm here to implore your forgiveness!"

Had I not been aware of his true nature from my past life, I might have been affected by the scene.

Instead, I gazed down at him from the steps as if he were insignificant. A scornful chuckle escaped me. "You believe a few stripes on your back will earn my forgiveness? How absurd. You've never grasped the concept of true love."

His eyes brimmed with tears as he begged, "I'll dedicate my entire life to making amends. Just allow me one opportunity–I beg you!"

I sneered. "Your 'entire life' means nothing to me."