Misha's eyes welled up the moment she saw Derek awake. She lunged toward him, crying, "I've been so worried!"
Derek sidestepped her embrace instinctively and said coolly, "I'm fine. I've delayed you long enough. I need to stay for treatment; you should head back."
Misha's jaw dropped in shock.
Misha had traveled so far and gone through so much, only to hear Derek tell her to leave as soon as he woke up.
"I need to care for you—your eyesight's impaired. I've already taken leave," she pleaded.
"You'll be fine. Rolf and Alvin are here. It's not convenient for you, a young woman, to stay," Derek insisted.
Misha stamped her foot in frustration. "What's inconvenient about it? You're not married, and neither am I. Remember when we were on missions together? We took care of each other then, didn't we?"
Alma happened to pass by and overhear the conversation, finally realizing that Misha had been the one making advances all along.
She looked Misha up and down with a sneer and said, "Young ladies these days sure were different from before. He's made it so clear he doesn't want you, yet here you are, throwing yourself at him. How undignified."
Misha retorted, "Our relationship is none of your business, old spinster!"
Alban, emerging just in time, winced at her words. Before he could reprimand her, Tabitha struck like lightning.
A sharp slap echoed through the forest.
Tabitha, fresh from dinner, had heard Misha's familiar brashness and acted swiftly.
Her hand shot out with lightning speed, and the slap landed with such force that Misha was left dazed.
Misha's eyes flew open wide, staring blankly at Tabitha, completely stunned.
It took her a good while to stammer, "You—how dare you hit me?"
"Apologize!" Tabitha said coldly, ignoring Misha's question. Her gaze was sharp and unyielding.
Misha's anger flared. Spoiled and protected all her life, she'd never been treated this way. If it weren't for Derek, she'd still be living comfortably at home.
"How dare you hit me? Who do you think you are? How dare you..." she shouted, her voice trembling with rage.
Before she could finish, Tabitha struck again, this time on Misha's other cheek.
"Apologize, or you won't leave this village," Tabitha warned, her voice cutting like a blade.
Misha tried to argue back, shouting, "Do you know who I am? I..."
Alban quickly stepped in, grabbing Misha's arm and urging her to stop. "Don't make this worse! Apologize now!" he said urgently.
Rolf, ever the quick thinker, feared Tabitha's wrath might extend to Derek.
Rolf quickly interjected, "Sorry about that. Miss Dalton's been on edge lately. I apologize for her sharp words. Please don't take it to heart."
Tabitha, however, remained unmoved.
She remembered all too well Misha's slap from years ago—the one that had left her reeling while Derek was in trouble.
Back then, she'd been too panicked to react, but now, she stood her ground.
Tabitha found it hard to believe that Misha thought the world revolved around her, allowing her to act however she pleased.
"You lot can be whoever you are outside these walls," Tabitha declared, her tone brooking no argument. "But here, you follow our rules—or you leave."
Her gaze swept the onlookers, unyielding as steel.
Alban, seeing Misha's temper flaring, pressed harder on her arm. "Think, Misha! This isn't Seattle. And you want to save Alpha Derek, don't you? Do you really want to alienate the only doctor who can help him?"
Alban spoke while closely watching Misha's reaction, his heart pounding with worry. He knew Misha's stubborn nature all too well and feared she might cause more trouble.
Though Misha was extremely reluctant, thinking of Derek steeled her resolve. With a deep breath, she forced herself to approach Alma, her head bowed and a strained expression on her face. "Mrs. Atkinson, it's all my fault. I've been too impatient these past few days. I hope you can forgive me," she said, every word grating against her pride.
Inside, Misha was a storm of anger and humiliation, her mind racing with indignation at the unfairness of it all. But for Derek's sake, she swallowed her pride, her jaw clenched tightly.
Alma, already eighty and having seen it all, wouldn't lose a wink of sleep over a few harsh words.
She simply glanced at Misha indifferently and said, "Well, well, well," before turning to leave with Tabitha's support, not sparing Misha another glance.
"See that you behave," she added, her tone carrying a weight of experience that left no room for argument.