Chap­ter 7 delves deeply into the emo­tion­al after­math of a trag­ic event, one that shat­ters what should have been a joy­ous occa­sion. The pro­tag­o­nist, reel­ing from the inci­dent, reflects on the cold recep­tion of the two police offi­cers who took his state­ment. Their hur­ried­ness and lack of con­cern for his emo­tion­al state fur­ther add to his frus­tra­tion, and he begins to feel more like an item on a check­list than a per­son in mourn­ing. After the offi­cers leave, he is left with the jar­ring con­trast of the once live­ly wed­ding cel­e­bra­tion, now replaced with an emp­ty, silent cot­tage. The fes­tive atmos­phere has van­ished, and all that remains is the hol­low ache of loss. Chang­ing out of his tuxe­do, he attempts to pre­pare for the long jour­ney ahead, still feel­ing emo­tion­al­ly drained from the day. As he set­tles into a qui­eter rou­tine, he stum­bles upon a mani­la enve­lope con­tain­ing ten one-hun­dred-dol­lar bills, a mys­te­ri­ous gift from Aidan. The bills, old and weath­ered, bring more ques­tions than answers, fuel­ing his frus­tra­tion. Despite the seem­ing ges­ture of kind­ness, he won­ders what Aidan’s inten­tions were and why he left such a cryp­tic gift.

Lat­er, as he dri­ves to Osprey Lodge, the ten­sion is pal­pa­ble, and the atmos­phere remains heavy with the emo­tion­al residue of the ear­li­er tragedy. Along the way, he encoun­ters the offi­cers, who seem embar­rassed as they take left­over food from the recep­tion, fur­ther high­light­ing the awk­ward­ness of the sit­u­a­tion. Upon arriv­ing at the lodge, he finds Tam­my and Mag­gie engaged in a con­ver­sa­tion, only for it to abrupt­ly stop when he enters. The once-cel­e­bra­to­ry mood has been replaced by the qui­et weight of grief, and the pro­tag­o­nist strug­gles to make Mag­gie see the real­i­ty of her situation—without the mar­riage, she has no claim to any­thing, not even the prenup. The real­iza­tion hits her hard, and she becomes resis­tant, refus­ing to leave the lodge to face the harsh truth. Con­cerned for her well-being, the pro­tag­o­nist becomes increas­ing­ly anx­ious, espe­cial­ly as Mag­gie’s ties to the Gard­ner fam­i­ly seem to hold her in a kind of emo­tion­al paral­y­sis. As Mag­gie insists on stay­ing to dis­cuss mat­ters with Errol, the pro­tag­o­nist real­izes how deep her attach­ment runs, and he wor­ries that her con­nec­tion to the fam­i­ly might keep her trapped in a web of com­plic­i­ty and unre­solved feel­ings. Despite his own emo­tion­al exhaus­tion, he is unable to ignore the grow­ing need to pro­tect his daugh­ter, Abi­gail, and that urgency com­pels him to act.

His focus shifts quick­ly when he dis­cov­ers that Abi­gail has gone miss­ing, and his pan­ic inten­si­fies. Des­per­ate­ly search­ing for her, he even­tu­al­ly finds Abi­gail alone at the Globe, a spot where the final traces of the wed­ding’s chaos remain. There, Abi­gail is seen wear­ing a daisy crown, the sym­bol of inno­cence, yet her somber demeanor betrays the weight of the loss she has just endured. Sit­ting qui­et­ly togeth­er, the pro­tag­o­nist feels a mix­ture of sad­ness and pro­tec­tive­ness. He knows that, despite the over­whelm­ing grief they both car­ry, this moment of shared silence pro­vides a rare chance for con­nec­tion. He reas­sures Abi­gail, offer­ing her com­fort by sug­gest­ing that leav­ing the site of their sor­row will help them heal. As the day turns to dusk, he encour­ages her to leave with him, promis­ing that, in time, the pain will lessen. Abi­gail, though ini­tial­ly hes­i­tant, even­tu­al­ly gives in to his words, and he car­ries her away from the rem­nants of the wed­ding. Their shared jour­ney back to camp sym­bol­izes not just phys­i­cal move­ment but also emo­tion­al progress, as they nav­i­gate their grief togeth­er. The bond between father and daugh­ter grows stronger in this moment, offer­ing a glim­mer of hope amidst the pain, and they begin to face the future, one step at a time.