No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 1375

In several clips, Ian would sit in her father's lab chair, watching him work, before eventually leaving without a word.

From the camera's perspective, it seemed as if her father, the father-in-law, was being cold and dismissive, treating his son-in-law with a lack of respect. But Ian had never once mentioned any of this to her.

Eleanor took a deep breath, tilting her head up to try and hold back the tears welling in her eyes.

Just then, she thought she saw a familiar figure.

Her eyes were swollen from crying and still blurry with tears, but she could see him clearly.

Standing on the sunset-drenched lawn was a tall, familiar silhouette. He was walking toward her from the other side of the green.

It was Ian.

His suit jacket was slung over his arm, and he wore a dark shirt. He looked travel-worn, but his posture was steady, his steps firm and determined as he approached her.

Eleanor stood frozen, simply watching him draw closer. The wind whipped her hair across her face, making her look even paler.

She hadn't expected him to arrive so quickly, to appear right here.

Ian stopped in front of her. He took in her bloodshot eyes and the salt-streaks staining her cheeks, at the forced composure she was maintaining, and at the stray strands of hair clinging to her face.

He raised a hand as if to brush them away for her, but then let it fall back to his side. "I'm here," he said, his voice deep.

Eleanor opened her mouth to speak, but her throat suddenly felt tight. She turned her face away and wiped at the corner of her eye. "Let's find a place to—"

Ian stepped forward and took her by the wrist. "The car is at the campus entrance."

Eleanor's breath hitched. "Why?" she asked instinctively.

Ian met her gaze, holding it steady as he continued, "To be precise, it's because before your mother passed away, she was diagnosed with an extremely rare, genetically inheritable form of leukemia."

It felt like an invisible hand had seized Eleanor's heart and squeezed. She stared at Ian in shock. The fingers she had placed on the desk curled into a tight fist, her knuckles turning white. "So, my father spent the last two years of his life desperately trying to find a cure?"

"Yes. After your mother died, your father never stopped his research. But back then, resources were limited, and he still had to raise you. He could only work on it in his spare time," Ian said gravely.

In the lamplight, Eleanor's face was so pale it was nearly translucent. She finally understood why her father had always rushed to the lab after work, why her entire childhood was spent by his side there. It wasn't his primary job; he was using the lab to conduct this research on the side.

All this time, her father had been doing this for her. Fresh tears streamed down Eleanor's face. She covered her mouth with her hand, trying to stifle a sob.