The Unwanted Wife's Return (Ex-Husband Wants Me Back) novel Chapter 383

The Hospic Surprisa

The Hospital Surprise

MARY’S POV:

A huge wave of relief washed over his face, softening the harsh lines around his eyes. “Thank you, Mary.”

“Do not thank me,” I told him, stepping past him into the hall. “I am not doing a single thing for you!”

He did not say anything back.

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The drive across town was completely quiet.

I sat in the front passenger seat, leaning my temple against the cold glass of the window, watching the streetlights and dark shop windows blur past. I knew these roads well. I had driven down them hundreds of times over the years, but tonight the whole city felt distant and unfamiliar. The high streetlamps threw long, strange shadows across the dark asphalt, and the tall office buildings on either side of the road looked like dark shapes watching us pass by.

Alistair was driving much too fast. His hands were clamped around the steering wheel so tightly that his skin looked pale, and his eyes stayed locked on the road ahead. I could see the hard strain in his neck muscles and the tight set of his jaw. He was genuinely worried about his mother, and a small part of me could understand that feeling. I could even feel a small flicker of pity for him.

However, pity was not the same thing as forgiveness.

My mind kept spinning back to the silver frame on the bookshelf. I thought about how I used to dust that frame every single week, wiping the glass clean without having any idea what he had hidden away on the other side. He had carried Vesper’s memory around in our home, pressed right against the back of our own life, and he had looked me in the eye every day without feeling a trace of guilt.

I thought about the dark bruises still marking my skin underneath my clothes.

I thought about the holding cell at the police station. I remembered the damp concrete floor, the rough voices of the people trapped in there with me, and the way the officer behind the desk had looked right through me when I asked for help.

I thought about the way Alistair had touched my arm in the bathroom earlier tonight. He had reached for me with that quiet, easy familiarity, as if he still owned my body and had every right to touch me whenever he pleased.

He did not own me anymore. He had lost that right a long time ago.

The main building of the hospital finally appeared up ahead, its bright white windows cutting through the dark night air. The big parking lot near the front was mostly empty, with just a few scattered cars sitting beneath the tall outdoor lights. Alistair pulled into a parking spot near the main glass doors and shut off the engine.

We sat there together in the dark for a minute, the heavy silence filling up the space between us. The hood of the car made small metallic clicking sounds as the engine cooled down in the night air. Drafts of cold air crept through the seals of the windows.

“Mary,” he said softly, turning his head toward me.

I did not turn to look at him.

“I know I have made massive mistakes,” he said, his voice quiet and heavy. “I know I have hurt you terribly. But my mother really loves you. She has always cared about you, and she needs to see your face right now.”

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I slowly turned my head and looked at him. In the pale light coming from the parking lot posts, his face looked worn out and thin. His eyes were surrounded by dark shadows, and he looked smaller than usual, like the weight of the night was crushing him. For a second, he looked genuinely broken.

“I am going inside for your mother,” I said, keeping my tone firm and steady. “I am not doing this for you, and this does not fix anything between us.”

He gave a small, slow nod. “I understand.”

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Her Again

MARY’S POV:

We opened our doors, stepped out into the cold air, and walked toward the entrance side by side without touching.

The hospital lobby was big, bright, and smelled strongly of disinfectant, harsh floor wax, and cold air A couple of. nurses in blue scrubs walked quickly down the main corridor, their soft shoes making faint squeaking sounds on the polished floor. A middle-aged woman sat behind the tall reception desk, her hands typing away on a keyboard while a small computer screen lit-up her face. Up above us, the long fluorescent light tubes buzzed with a low, constant hum that made my head ache.

Alistair walked up to the counter first. “Hello. I am here to see my mother. Her name is Beatrice Vane.”

The receptionist looked up from her screen, her expression polite but completely blank. She typed a few quick strokes into her system, her eyes skimming down a list on the display. “She is in Room 412. Take the main elevator bank to the fourth floor, step out, and make a left down the hallway.”

Alistair gave her a short nod and turned toward the elevators. I followed a few paces behind him, the sound of my shoes tapping softly against the clean floor. The metal elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, and we stepped inside the small box. It smelled like industrial cleaner and stale air, and the tiny light above the floor buttons flickered once or twice as the lift started moving upward.

The ride up was short and dead silent. When the doors pulled open again on the fourth floor, we stepped out into a long, quiet corridor lined with closed wooden doors. The light-colored floor was polished so clean that it reflected the lights overhead, and the walls were painted a boring, light beige color.

Room 412 was all the way at the far end of the hall. The door was not fully closed, left open just an inch or two, allowing a yellow strip of light to spill out across the dark floor of the hallway. As we got closer, I could hear the muted sound of voices coming from inside. A woman was speaking in a smooth, quiet tone, followed by another voice answering her in a softer whisper.

Alistair reached out, placed his palm flat against the door, and pushed it open.

I took a breath and stepped into the room right behind him.

Then my heart dropped, and I stopped dead in my tracks.

The person lying in the hospital bed was not Alistair’s mother.

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