She Turned Her Grief Into Wings novel Chapter 141

The hospital room was perfectly still. Moonlight spilled through the window and bathed Caden Hayes, casting his sharp features in deep, brooding shadows.

He looked at the woman in the bed, his heart a tangled mess of conflicting emotions.

Leaning over, he gently reached out and wiped a stray tear from the corner of her eye.

Ever since he learned the truth about what had really happened, he felt increasingly at a loss for how to face her.

There were less than ten days left in their legally mandated separation period, and the answer in his heart was only growing clearer.

He didn't want a divorce.

He didn't want it at all.

But he had no idea what to do.

He had gone out of his way to investigate, to dig up the truth.

Now that he had found it, what came next?

Would Shera Jewell just forgive him and pretend none of this had ever happened?

It was just like she had told him once: "I hope you can always stay this confident, Caden."

That old confidence had completely shattered by now.

He didn't want to step foot into that cold, empty house without her there.

That house was now as chillingly desolate as the old family estate had been after his mother passed away, so suffocating that he couldn't eat or sleep.

For the first nineteen years of his life, he had his mother by his side. After she was gone, he numbed himself with endless work.

It wasn't until that day outside the operating room, when a young woman tugged on his sleeve and asked if he would partner with her, that color slowly returned to his world.

From the moment she said "I do," his house was no longer cold and lifeless, no longer immaculately sterile like a model home.

There were flowers, stuffed animals, cute throw pillows on the couch, colorful plates in the dishwasher, and his closet—which had only ever held black and white suits—was suddenly stuffed with pastel dresses.

She used to pick out his outfits for work every day. She swapped his iced coffee for warm milk.

She would wrap her arms around his neck before he left for the office and pout, "If my husband doesn't give me a kiss, I'll have no energy for the rest of the day."

He would lean down and press a soft kiss to her lips, and she would shyly bury her face in his neck, whispering that she would wait for him to come home.

He remembered how delicate she used to be; a tiny papercut on her finger would have her whining for half the day.

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