The Wife You Buried Is Back from Hell novel Chapter 1181

The man’s face was deathly pale, and his brow was knitted in a tight frown. Looking at him, Danielle felt a complex wave of emotion wash over her, tinged with an unexplainable pang of bitterness. She never imagined Alexander would wait here all night, much less that his health had deteriorated so severely.

Danielle stood by the car, gazing at the sleeping but clearly exhausted man inside, and couldn't bring herself to wake him. Instead, she motioned for Nash to step aside with her. She looked at him and lowered her voice. “What’s going on? Why did he cough up blood, and why did he spend the entire night here?”

Nash sighed, his expression complicated as he glanced back at Alexander in the car. “I don’t know the full details, either,” he whispered. “Mr. Davidson has been very withdrawn lately, almost indifferent to everything around him. It’s as if nothing can affect him. But having been by his side for so many years, I can tell something is seriously wrong—it’s even worse than when his depression was at its most severe.” He paused, hesitating for a moment before deciding to reveal the truth, his voice dropping even lower. “This time… I think it’s because Mr. Davidson found out that the child you miscarried… was his.”

Danielle froze, her mind going completely blank. She stood motionless, her fingertips turning ice-cold as a storm of emotions churned within her. She had thought she’d long since moved on, but hearing it brought up again sent a sharp, persistent ache through her heart.

Just then, Alexander slowly opened his eyes inside the car. Perhaps the voices outside had disturbed him, or perhaps the exhaustion from a sleepless night had finally broken his rest. His gaze passed through the window and landed directly on Danielle, deep and silent. Seeing this, Nash tactfully retreated, giving them space.

Danielle took a deep breath, suppressing the turmoil in her heart, and walked to the side of the car. The window slid down, and the faint scent of blood and medicine drifted out, making her frown slightly. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words felt stuck in her throat. “You’re awake?”

Alexander looked at her, his eyes as dark as ink, swirling with complex emotions. He had so many questions he wanted to ask—why didn’t you tell me the child was mine? Why did you endure the pain of the miscarriage alone? Why did you never defend yourself? But as the questions rose to his lips, he swallowed them back down. He knew all too well that, at the time, Danielle had no trust left for him. She had given up on him completely. After his repeated coldness and cruelty, how could she possibly have held onto any hope? How could she have told him? All his questions dissolved into an even deeper well of self-recrimination.

He lowered his gaze, his long lashes casting a shadow on his cheeks, hiding the emotion in his eyes and leaving only a heavy silence. Inside and outside the car, they stood without a word, the air thick with an awkward, oppressive tension.

Danielle looked at his pale face. “Don’t keep trapping yourself in the past,” she said softly. “So much of what happened back then was out of our hands. If you had another chance, you wouldn't have done it that way, would you?” She wanted to help him find release, to free him from the shackles of his own making. She knew Alexander hadn't intended to hurt her; the years of distance and misunderstanding were fueled by external factors and situations beyond their control.