Chapter Text
It had been two years since Anne had broken their engagement-- not that Wentworth was counting. He’d be back in England tomorrow, a couple of years older, thousands of pounds richer, and brimming with seven hundred and fifty days’ worth of resentment and sorrow.
He should write to her.
The warring forces of yearning and bitterness battled within him as he stared out at the reflection of the moon upon the water. The sea had always soothed him; the lapping of the waves was a comfort. He allowed himself to be lulled into numbness.
Pride won. He would not write.