The Wife You Buried Is Back from Hell novel Chapter 1112

In that difficult moment, it was a profound comfort to have a friend who supported and encouraged him. “Thank you, Kirsten,” Gian said, his voice a little hoarse but utterly sincere.

“Don’t be a stranger,” Kirsten replied with a smile, handing him a grilled chicken wing. “Here, eat something. Try not to dwell on all this unpleasantness. We’ll figure it out.”

Gian took the chicken wing and nodded, slowly starting to eat. The savory aroma of the barbecue mixed with the crisp taste of beer, and the tension in his shoulders gradually began to ease. The BBQ joint remained a whirlwind of noise and smoke, full of life.

He looked at Kirsten, then at the cheerful diners around them, and a thought surfaced in his mind: this simple, free life was what he truly wanted.

He knew that calling off the engagement would cause a massive uproar and that he would face opposition and pressure from his family. But he had made his decision. He would no longer compromise or let others dictate his life. He didn't know what the future held, and he didn't want to. He only knew that for once, he had to fight for his own happiness, no matter the cost.

The two continued to eat and chat, the earlier incident seemingly forgotten for the moment. But inside, something in Gian had quietly shifted. From this moment on, he knew he had to live for himself and bravely pursue the life and love he desired.

As the night deepened, the lights of the BBQ joint remained bright, casting long shadows of Gian and Kirsten. After they finished, Gian drove Kirsten home.

Just as she stepped out of the car, she caught a glimpse of a black Maybach parked in a dark corner. The car’s sharp lines gleamed under the dim light. It was Alexander’s—after wrecking his last one in the mountains, he had bought an identical replacement.

Kirsten shook her head in exasperation. “He’s in the corner, your blind spot. Look to your left.”

Following her instructions, Danielle shifted her view and finally saw it: the familiar Maybach tucked into the shadows by the side wall, and next to it, the solitary figure. The streetlight only illuminated half of his body, leaving the other half in darkness. She couldn’t make out his expression, but he radiated an undeniable aura of loneliness.

Danielle’s fingers tightened on the curtain, her heart clenching with a strange mix of sorrow and something else. What was he doing here? And how long had he been standing there?