Goodbye, Mr. Regret novel Chapter 461

“Yes.”

That’s exactly how suffocating it felt.

If they could part on good terms, maybe she’d remember the good in him.

The failure of their marriage—she knew it was the result of her own bad choices. She wasn’t about to pin all the blame on him.

But this relentless pressure—this was what she truly hated.

All Jessica wanted was a small slice of life that belonged to her alone, but even that tiny wish, he insisted on denying her.

Jessica Greene looked at him, sorrow weighing in her eyes. “You’re not a fool, Timothy. You know exactly what’s become of our marriage. There are only a few weeks left—what’s the point in dragging this out?”

“Jessy, most marriages fall apart because of cheating, family issues, or lack of communication. Now you want a divorce—shouldn’t we at least sit down and talk about what went wrong? If we can fix it, let’s fix it. If we can’t, then we’ll end it. That’s how a marriage should be—beginning to end. Why can’t we just talk?”

Jessica let out a bitter laugh. “So you do understand.”

He knew everything, yet acted as if he didn’t know a thing.

“I’ve been thinking it through, Jessy. I’m sorry. We’ve been married seven years—I thought everything was normal. If you want to go home tonight, that’s fine. But can we please sit down and talk?” Timothy gestured to the chair across from him.

Jessica remained standing. “We’re way past the talking stage.”

“We still have a few weeks, don’t we? How is it too late?”

“Because any feeling I had left for this marriage is already dead.”

Even if he found the perfect words, nothing could bring back the woman she’d once been—the one full of hope for their life together.

Maybe it was because Timothy was so calm that Jessica didn’t even want to fight. They barely ever argued. She used to be the quiet one, unable to speak up; now that she finally could, Timothy had become so accommodating that there was nothing left to fight over.

Timothy’s voice was steady, almost gentle. “So what you’re saying is, you actually did have some hope for our marriage at one point.”

“I think most people do,” Jessica replied.

The cigarette in Timothy’s hand burned down to the filter. He stubbed it out, grabbed his cane, and walked over to her.

Even injured, even leaning on a cane, he was still devastatingly handsome—his presence undiminished, his movements as graceful as ever.

“Jessy, I never wanted a divorce. I agreed to it just to buy myself thirty more days. Time is slipping away—one week’s already gone. I don’t want to waste what’s left. Can you give me these last three weeks? Can you try to see me with fresh eyes?”

Jessica met his gaze, her expression wavering between tension and resignation. “Did you lie about the waiting period too? About when we’d actually sign the papers?”