"Should we go back to the inn now?" Edmund asked softly, brushing away the last of Primrose's tears and gently soothing her as she wiped at her eyes, still sniffling because she'd imagined him with an imaginary mistress.
"Alright," Primrose nodded quietly. "Let's go back."
The night air had grown colder. Each breath she took felt sting and slightly painful, like the cold was settling into her lungs.
But thankfully, the chill became more bearable once they started walking toward the carriage waiting for them at the end of the street.
Edmund had offered to carry her on his back, but since there were still a few people walking around, Primrose turned him down, saying she'd feel too embarrassed.
[She didn't seem too embarrassed when she was crying out in public earlier,] Edmund thought with a slight frown, clearly sulking a little.
Primrose almost choked on her own breath because she hadn't expected her husband to be that petty when he didn't get what he wanted.
