Tale of a Hedonistic wizard

Past years had been tough for her—the divorce and dealing with her life, She was lost, but her son Pierre had been there for her and helped her. Her brief encounter with Jaegar was all she could cherish, and her heart ached whenever she saw him in the newspaper.

Fiona hesitated, her hand unconsciously rising to smooth her hair, a nervous gesture she thought she'd outgrown.

Should she approach him? The rational part of her mind warned against it - after all, the past was past, and they had all moved on. Hadn't they?

But another part of her, a part that had been awakened at this wedding and refused to be silenced, urged her forward.

Before she could second-guess herself, Fiona found her feet carrying her towards Jaegar's table.

As she drew closer, she could see that Jaegar was lost in thought; his brow furrowed slightly as he gazed out into the night. He looked older than she remembered, lines of experience etched around his eyes and mouth, but no less handsome for it.

If anything, the years had added a depth to his features that made her heart ache in a way she couldn't quite define.

"Mind if I join you?" Fiona's voice was soft, barely above a whisper, yet Jaegar started slightly at the sound.

He turned to look at her, surprise flickering across his face before settling into a warm smile.
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"Mrs. Seifridges," he said, her name on his lips sending an involuntary shiver down her spine. "Of course, please." He gestured to the empty chair beside him.

"I am not a Seifridges anymore; please call me by my name," she said, moving to the chair.

"I've heard from Pierre. I'm sorry about your divorce."

"It's alright. It was bound to happen."

As Fiona sank into the offered seat, she was acutely aware of Jaegar's presence beside her. The faint scent of his cologne, a mixture of sandalwood and something uniquely him, brought back a flood of memories so vivid she almost gasped.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

The silence between them was comfortable, laden with shared history and unspoken understanding. Fiona found herself studying Jaegar's hands, resting on the table before him.

Strong hands, capable of wielding powerful magic, yet also gentle - she remembered their touch all too well.

"It was a beautiful wedding," Jaegar said at last, his deep voice cutting through Fiona's reverie.

She nodded, grateful for the opening. "It was," she agreed. "Pierre and Jennifer... they look so happy together." A smile touched her lips, genuine joy for her son mixing with a hint of wistfulness.

Jaegar turned to look at her fully then, his dark eyes searching her face. "And you, Fiona? Are you happy?"

The question, so simple yet so loaded, hung in the air between them.

Fiona found herself looking down at her hands, twisting the gold band she still wore on her right hand - not her wedding ring, long since removed, but a gift from her mother, a reminder of who she was beyond the roles of wife and mother.

"I've been thinking about the past," she said at last, her voice barely audible. She looked up, meeting Jaegar's gaze squarely. "About us."

Jaegar's expression softened, a mixture of tenderness and regret passing over his features. "Fiona, I-"

She held up a hand, stopping him. "Please, let me finish. I need to say this." Taking a deep breath, she continued, "What we had, Jaegar... it wasn't just an affair. It wasn't just about escaping a loveless marriage or recapturing lost youth. It was..." She paused, searching for the right words. "It was a reminder of who I am. Who I can be. With you, I wasn't just Watson's wife or Pierre's mother. I was Fiona. Just Fiona. And I felt alive in a way I had forgotten was possible."

Jaegar reached out, covering her hand with his own. The warmth of his touch sent a jolt through her, and Fiona had to resist the urge to turn her hand over, to lace her fingers with his as she had done so many times before.

"I'm glad," he said simply, his voice rough with emotion. "You deserve to feel alive, Fiona. You always have."

They sat in silence for a moment, both lost in memories. It was Jaegar who spoke next, his voice cautious. "How did Pierre handle it, when he found out about us?"

Fiona's smile turned wistful. "Better than I had any right to expect," she admitted. "He was angry at first, of course. Hurt. I remember the look on his face when he confronted me..." She shook her head, the pain of that moment still fresh even after all these years. "But Pierre... he's always been able to see beyond the surface of things. He took time to understand and to really listen. And in the end, he forgave us both."

"He's a good man," Jaegar said, pride evident in his voice.

"He is," Fiona agreed. "Better than his father and I deserved, perhaps."

As if summoned by their conversation, a burst of raucous laughter cut through the quiet of the hall. Fiona and Jaegar both turned to look.

Across the room, Watson was holding court with a small group of guests. He was leaning far too close to a young woman, his face flushed with drink, his laughter too loud and forced.

Fiona sighed, a mixture of resignation and distaste crossing her features. "Some things never change," she murmured.

Jaegar squeezed her hand gently. "And some things do," he reminded her. "You're free now, Fiona. You've built a new life for yourself."

She nodded, grateful for the reminder. "You're right, of course. It's just..." she trailed off, her eyes distant. "Sometimes I can't help but wonder. If times had been different, if we had met earlier, or if I had been braver sooner..."

"Fiona," Jaegar's voice was gentle but firm. "We can't live in 'what ifs'. What we had was beautiful, but it was of its time. We've both grown and changed."