Divorce to Destiny: Reclaiming My CEO Husband novel Chapter 210

210 Home With Abby 

210 Home With Abby 

(Winona) 

The atmosphere around the dinner table is warm, despite the undercurrent of what’s to come. Anne, with her nurturing presence, insisted on cooking tonight, filling the penthouse with the comforting aromas of a home–cooked meal. 

She’s always known how to make any place feel like a home, and tonight is no different. We’re all here for Abby, to help her understand and cope with the loss that needs to be explained. 

I’m dreading it. I think the only thing worse than feeling pain is seeing other people’s pain and not being able to help. Seeing my daughter’s pain is not something I’m looking forward to. 

Jayden sits at the head of the table, his presence steady and reassuring. There’s a confidence about him despite what he’s personally going through. I can tell he’s put his difficulties aside to focus on our family 

unit tonight. 

I’ve never felt that way before with him. 

Abby is beside him, her little legs swinging under the chair as she eagerly eats the meal Anne prepared. She’s really missed Anne being in her daily life. 

Cass is across from her, quiet but staying composed. 

I sit next to Abby, watching her closely, knowing the questions that are going to follow dinner. 

As we finish eating. Abby looks up at me with those big, curious eyes. “Mommy, when is Grandma Lucy coming home from the hospital? Can we visit her tomorrow?” 

My heart tightens, and I glance at Jayden, who gives me a small nod, signaling his support. I take a deep breath, reaching out to hold Abby’s small hand in mine. “Sweetheart, there’s something we need to talk about.” 

Abby tilts her head, sensing the seriousness in my tone. “What, Mommy?” 

Jayden clears his throat softly, leaning closer to Abby. “Abby, honey, Grandma Lucy isn’t going to come home from the hospital.” 

Abby’s brow furrows in confusion. “Why not? Is she going to live in another house? Aunt Cass, are you going with her?” 

“No, no kiddo, I’m staying here with you for now.” 

“Well why is Grandma Lucy not coming home?” 

I glance at Cass and I see the tears in her eyes, feel my own. 

“Because, sweetie,” I say gently, “Grandma Lucy has gone to heaven.” 

“Heaven?” Abby repeats, her voice small. “Like the sky? How?” 

“Yes, like the sky.” I explain, feeling a lump form in my throat. “She’s in a place where she won’t be sick or hurt anymore. But it also means that we won’t be able to see her again. But she will always be in our hearts.” 

210 Home With Abby 

25 BONUS 

Abby’s eyes widen with understanding, and her lip begins to quiver. “Is this like bubbles, my fish?” 

“Yeah Sweetle. It’s like that.” Jayden says of her goldfish that she lost last year. “Like Bubbles. They went to Heaven with the angels.” 

“But… but I don’t want Grandma Lucy to go to heaven. I want her to stay here. I will miss her too much.” 

Cass, who has been holding it together, suddenly breaks down, tears streaming down her face as she gets up and goes to wrap her arms around Abby. “I know, Abby. I’ll miss her too.” 

Seeing Cass so emotional makes Abby’s tears fall as well. “Why did she have to go, Aunt Cass?” 

Cass shakes her head, trying to hold back her sobs. “I don’t know, sweetheart. I don’t know. But she’d been very sick and it was her time.” 

Anne moves closer, her presence calming as she gently rubs Abby’s back. “Sometimes people have to leave us, Abby, even when we don’t want them to. But Grandma Lucy loved you very much, and she’ll always be in your heart.” 

Abby sniffles, her face buried against Cass’s shoulder. I want her to come back.” 

“I know, baby,” I say, my voice breaking. “But she’s in a good place now, and she’s looking down on you, watching over you.” 

Is she an angel now?” 

“She’s the brightest angel with the biggest wings.” Cass sits on the chair next to Abby and pulls Abby into her lap, holding her close as they cry together. 

The sight of them both grieving, so connected in their pain, brings tears to my own eyes. This is hard. I feel Jayden’s hand on my shoulder, a silent reminder that we’re in this together.