He Never Loved Me Until the Day I Finally Left Him novel Chapter 197

Sebastian had already driven back to the estate.

The moment he reached the master bedroom, he heard a concerning noise coming from the en-suite bathroom.

Without hesitating, he rushed over.

He found Helena's slender frame hunched over the toilet, violently throwing up.

At six months pregnant, her morning sickness had vanished a long time ago.

Yet tonight, a sickening wave of nausea had hit her out of nowhere.

She couldn't hold it back.

Even after retching up nothing but stomach acid and bile, the sickening feeling lingered.

"Why are you throwing up again?" he asked, frowning as he approached her.

Hearing his voice didn't bring her any comfort; it only sparked a surge of raw panic.

She whipped around, instinctively trying to scramble away.

She completely ignored how miserable and exposed she looked.

"What are you running from?" he demanded, snatching her thin wrist.

As his large hand circled her arm, his frown deepened.

Why did she feel even skinnier than before?

Under his grip, there seemed to be nothing but bone.

She was supposed to be pregnant.

Compared to her, Janetta was glowing and healthy.

Then again, Janetta had a small army doting on her every whim, making sure she lacked nothing.

That thought only made his frown more pronounced.

Caught in his grasp, Helena immediately started thrashing. "Let go of me! Let go!"

Having vomited for so long, her voice sounded incredibly frail.

It was rough and hoarse.

But it was still dripping with defiance and resistance.

He didn't let go, but he didn't say a word either.

It violently ripped open the wounds she had worked so hard to stitch closed.

Back then, her entire universe had revolved around him.

She hated the smell of seafood, but because he liked it, she had spent hours cooking that risotto every single day.

Not that he ever ate much of it, and when he did, he was always overly critical.

She had spent her days passively waiting for his return, and the vast majority of the time, she was left bitterly disappointed.

Because he almost never came home.

But on the rare occasions he did, she was perfectly willing to wait up past midnight just for a glimpse of him.

Most of their interaction had been strictly confined to the bedroom.

Once they were out of bed, simply holding a conversation with him was a luxury she couldn't afford.

Lately, she truly believed she had finally moved past it all.

But hearing him casually summarize her misery sent a fresh, sharp stab of pain through her chest.

Seven years of marriage was simply too long a time to erase.