The Wife You Buried Is Back from Hell novel Chapter 1182

But she also knew that Alexander was not the type to easily forgive himself. His obsession and guilt had taken root in his heart long ago, growing into a towering tree that held him captive. Alexander slowly lifted his head to look at her, a faint smile touching his lips. “Sometimes, I wish you hated me more.”

Danielle stared at him for a moment, then frowned. “What are you, a masochist? You’d only be happy if I hated you?” Alexander didn’t argue. It was a selfish thought, he knew. If Danielle hated him, perhaps the guilt crushing his heart would lessen. At least he would know that his actions had provoked some kind of emotion from her, instead of this placid calm, as if nothing had ever happened.

But she was always like this, always so good. Even after all the pain she had endured, even after learning the whole truth, she didn’t choose to hate him. Instead, she was trying to comfort him, to absolve him. Her kindness was like a dull blade, sawing at his heart, making it even more impossible for him to forgive himself.

Danielle was at a loss for words. Words always felt so inadequate. “It’s all in the past,” she said softly. “We were both at fault—you for your actions, and me for my stubbornness. We’ve both been shackled by it for too long. It's time we tried to let go.” Alexander remained silent. He couldn’t let go. He could never forgive himself. Danielle fell silent as well. She knew that getting Alexander to truly move on wouldn't happen overnight. His guilt was too deep, his obsession too strong to be washed away by a few comforting words.

“It’s okay if you can’t let it go right now,” Danielle said when he didn’t respond. “We can take it slow. You don’t have to force yourself to forgive yourself immediately, and you don’t have to force yourself to forget the past. We’ll just… take it one step at a time.” She paused, then added, “Next time you want to see me, you don’t have to wait downstairs. Just call me. And Nash told me you were coughing up blood yesterday. Should we go to the hospital now? I’ll go with you.”

Alexander shook his head. “No need. It’s a chronic thing. It’ll be fine in a couple of days.” The old ailment, a chronic condition from a past injury, had plagued him for years. Compounded by his recurring depression, coughing up blood had become a grim normality he was used to enduring alone. “Chronic things still need to be treated,” Danielle insisted, her brow furrowed. “Why do you call it a chronic thing? Why did you stand guard downstairs all night? It’s because of the child, isn’t it?” Her gaze was sharp, piercing straight to the most hidden pain in his heart.

Alexander looked at her, his throat working. Finally, he just said in a low voice, “Danielle, it’s hard for me to explain a lot of things.” The guilt, regret, and self-loathing were a tangled mess in his mind. He didn’t know how to organize his thoughts, how to make her understand what he was feeling. It was true he felt he had wronged her, that he couldn't face her, so he could only watch from a distance, as if that could somehow lessen his sin.

“You feel you owe me, that you can’t face me, so you choose to watch from afar,” Danielle stated, looking at him. “But what you should be doing right now is what I want you to do. Can’t you even do this one thing that I’m asking?” Her words struck Alexander like a hammer blow. He froze, his eyes churning with a storm of emotions. It was true. He owed her more than he could ever repay in this lifetime.