Dear Ex-wife Marry Me novel (Maja) novel Chapter 1789

It was Yvonne's handwriting, unmistakably hers. Bernard knew it well, as they used to secretly write letters to each other.

Bernard's fingers clenched tightly around the paper, but then slowly relaxed, fearing he might crumple it.

Outside, the relentless wail of police sirens filled the air, echoing like an omen of endless chaos.

There were muffled curses from strangers, but Bernard couldn't care less. From the very first word, he began to read slowly, absorbing every line.

"Bernard, I'm so sorry, I can't have children."

"What to do? Bernard is an orphan with no family of his own, and now that he's married to me, we can't even have a child."

"My mother said that church had miracles, I prayed so long, why can't I be blessed with a child?"

"I pretended to be pregnant. I love him too much and didn't want to disappoint him. I guess I'm the one to blame, I'll raise this child as my own."

"The child is adorable, but he's not ours, not Bernard's. Now when I look at him, it hurts; I've deceived everyone—I became the woman I despise the most. The doctor says there's no miracle; I can't get pregnant, and my mind is in turmoil."

"I visit the church every week, and I haven't been home this year. The priest says I'm possessed. Now, when I see other people's kids, I want to take them home—I can always find one that resembles Bernard."

"I'm sorry, I can't take it anymore. It's all my fault. One lie led to countless others; it's too painful. I do love him, yet I'm the one who deceived him the most."

"I used to be kind, why did I do this? I'm sick, it's like I've lost my mind. Bernard, I'm sorry, truly sorry. The child isn't yours, I can't have kids, it's all a lie."

These are the fragmented words left by Yvonne, they can't even be considered a letter, just words she wrote in an emotional breakdown.

Bernard read it over and over, each word hammering against his skull.

His ideal of a happy family, the blissful marriage he thought he had—all a sham.

But it didn't matter to him.

All he cared about was Yvonne, why had she been so foolish?

He felt something stuck in his chest. The more he read, the more he realized Yvonne's mind had been troubled much earlier, and he was too obtuse to notice.