Jasper's voice carried across the room, "Alpha Derek, your words are quite ironic. If you truly loved her as you claim, how could you have hurt her? Isn't that contradictory?"
Derek heard Jasper's footsteps approaching.
When Jasper finally stopped, he leaned close, every word deliberate: "In my eyes, Alpha Derek, you're a hypocrite. What you had wasn't love. If I loved someone, I'd treat them like a treasure, never letting them get hurt. Alpha Derek, am I wrong?"
Derek knew Jasper spoke of Tabitha. His past actions had given everyone ammunition to criticize him.
Even if he had once doted on Tabitha, all people remembered were his wrongs.
On this issue, whatever Derek said would backfire.
Seeing Derek's silence, Jasper continued, "Don't think a few kind words can erase your past misdeeds. Life isn't that easy."
Derek's fists clenched under the table.
Knowing Jasper's identity and the weight of his words made them cut deeper.
But he kept his face calm, lifting his head slightly and asking, "Who are you? How do you know me?"
Jasper's light laugh followed, "Your reputation precedes you. What you did to your ex-wife is hard to forget—not for me, and certainly not for her."
Tabitha stood a short distance away, the lanterns casting an unclear light.
Derek sensed her presence faintly. Jasper's provocation didn't anger him. Instead, he met it with a guarded calm. "I haven't forgotten. I remember every single thing I've done, and I regret it," Derek said softly.
Jasper sneered. "Save those apologies for hell."
"Ahem," came Tabitha's gentle cough from afar—a subtle signal for Jasper to stop.
"Alpha Derek, you can gaze at the moon all you like. I have more pressing matters to attend to," Jasper said with a smirk.
Derek's mind was a storm of irritation.
He detested his blindness.
Alma set a basket of peas before him. "Since you're feeling better, help out. Peel these peas. You're not a lord anymore."
Derek thought, "How can I peel peas when my wife has left me!"
"I'll do it. Alpha Derek's eyes are still weak," Spike interjected.
"What good is a limping man compared to a blind one?"
Spike was left speechless. When Tabitha had gone into premature labor, he'd injured his foot. Though it didn't affect his daily walk, his gait remained distinct from that of an able-bodied person.
"Don't argue. You have chores. Fertilize the garden in the back."
Spike glanced at Derek. "But I need to care for Alpha Derek."
"He's capable. What do you think you're helping with? Go on."
"Go ahead," Derek said nonchalantly. Peeling peas—how hard could it be?
He felt for the pea pods, extracting the beans easily, but his mind was elsewhere, envisioning Tabitha and Jasper leaving.
That brat's had a crush on Tabitha for years. "He'll seize any chance to act!"
A pea rolled into his cheek, and Derek's hand twitched. Three pods slipped from the basket.
He crushed one between his fingers, its juice staining his palm. With sudden force, he slammed it into the basket, the wooden rim echoing loudly.
"I can't do this," he mumbled, his fingers brushing the moss on the stone table. The afternoon's warmth still clung to it, but his palm, damp with rage, betrayed him.
"Young man, no need for temper," Alma said, her wooden spoon scraping the enamel pot with a grating sound.
She slid a glass of warm water to him. "I know you're not used to this kind of work, but you must adapt to life as a blind man. Your eyes won't heal in days or weeks."
She emphasized "adapt," the sound of coffee pouring into a mug suddenly sharp.
Tabitha's voice flared in his memory: "Derek, you always think you're invincible."
He shook his head, swallowing hard. "How long until I see again?" His left hand grazed the bandage on his forehead, still redolent with antiseptic.
"It varies. Could be months, could be over a year," Alma said, her sugar cube dropping into the mug with a soft thud. "Once the toxins are gone, get a hospital check-up. Eye issues are tricky—recovery won't be swift."