Goodbye, Mr. Regret novel Chapter 463

Henry was her son—her own flesh and blood. But Timothy wasn’t.

And yet, she still reacted this way.

Jessica stared at her reflection in the mirror, biting her lip hard, trying to jolt herself awake. No matter how much she tried to shake it, her deep attachment to him lingered in her subconscious, making her worry about him all over again.

He was always like this—calm and unshakable, whether he was hurt or whether she slapped him across the face. He stood steady as a mountain.

Her mother had left, and Jessica had no one to rely on. Her father had vanished long ago, and he was no support either. Even her grandmother, who had raised her, had passed away. A lifetime of loneliness left her desperate for someone solid to lean on.

Once, Timothy had been that person in her heart. He was her husband, Henry’s father—the one who could protect them both. She thought she could count on him. But just as he stood unmovable as a mountain, she found she couldn’t lean on him after all.

Inside her, the foundation kept cracking, crumbling.

She collected herself and stepped out of the bathroom, leaning against the doorframe as she gazed at him sleeping deeply. Her eyes were blank, full of disappointment.

The yacht finally reached the dock. An ambulance was already waiting.

The butler helped the medics lift Timothy onto a stretcher.

Studying the signs and the language around her, Jessica realized they were somewhere near Bali.

But she couldn’t leave—not now. He had brought her here in the middle of the night, and she hadn’t seen her bag since. When she woke up, only her phone was on the nightstand.

She had no choice but to follow the ambulance to the hospital.

Timothy had passed out from blood loss. The doctor checked his blood pressure—fortunately, it wasn’t critical enough to need a transfusion.

When they stitched up his wound, the pain woke Timothy. He opened his eyes and saw the butler.

“Where’s Jessica?” he asked.

“She’s waiting outside.”

Stitching wasn’t a major procedure; there was a special area for it, not the ER.

Timothy’s wound wasn’t large—just four stitches.

Still, the doctor insisted he stay for an IV, since he’d lost so much blood. The medicine would help the wound heal and prevent infection.

Timothy asked for a private room. With the butler’s support, he walked out and saw Jessica waiting.

He’d changed into a fresh shirt. Aside from his pallor and a hint of weakness, he carried himself with the same quiet dignity as always.

His leg had improved a lot—he could nearly walk unaided now, only needing the butler’s arm for support.

“Mrs. Lawson, the doctor wants Mr. Lawson to get an IV. Let’s head to the room,” the butler said.

Jessica couldn’t leave, so she followed them.

They had barely settled into the hospital room when a nurse came in with medication and started Timothy’s IV. The butler followed the nurse out to handle the paperwork, leaving only the two of them in silence.

For a long time, neither spoke.

Finally, Jessica asked, “Did you bring my bag?”