It was dark inside the cottage and out when she woke up again. She didn't know how long she'd been out, but considering the last time she'd been so drained she slept for over a day, she assumed it was at least that long. While the rage she experienced at discovering her husband's affair was reduced to an echo of its previous intensity, the humiliation was still there stronger than ever. Never before, not even when she knew Antonin was rushing off to London to be with the wretched bitch Andromeda did she ever feel so mortified. What was different? Was it because she no longer had the numbness of the potions to protect her from the harshness of reality? Or was it because she'd finally grown to care for, possibly even love, the man she'd married so many years earlier?