The Wife You Buried Is Back from Hell novel Chapter 1212

Danielle’s voice was like a beam of light piercing through the chaotic darkness.

She rushed forward to steady him, but he shot out a hand and yanked her into his arms with all his might. His arm wrapped around her waist like a steel band, the force so great it felt as if he wanted to crush her into his very bones. Hot tears fell unexpectedly onto her neck, their searing heat making her heart tremble.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” His voice was hoarse and broken, like shattered glass, thick with emotion. “I was wrong… I shouldn’t have signed it… I shouldn’t have let you and Niki go…”

Danielle could barely breathe in his tight embrace, but she couldn’t bring herself to pull away. She could feel his body trembling, hear the desperation and fear in his voice, and sense the frantic, terrified beat of his heart, like someone who had narrowly escaped death.

She raised a hand and gently patted his back. “Alexander, what’s wrong? What are you talking about? I don’t understand.”

He buried his face in her neck, his shoulders shaking violently. The same dream had tormented him for some time now, each instance so real that he could no longer distinguish it from reality. The heart-wrenching agony of the dream was branded into his soul, a constant reminder that he had almost lost his entire world.

“I dreamed… I dreamed you were gone…” he stammered, his voice choked. “I signed the papers… I sent you away… The water was so suffocating… I couldn’t save you…”

Danielle froze. The events of their past life. Were they buried deep in his memory?

She gently stroked his hair, her fingers running through the damp strands. “Alexander,” she said, her voice soft but firm, each word finding its way to him. “I’m here. Niki is here, too. We’re both fine. We haven’t left you.”

His body stiffened, and the pressure of his arms gradually eased. But the moment he loosened his grip, his back went rigid.

A violent coughing fit erupted, more intense than any before. Danielle could feel the tremors in his chest as he desperately clutched at her sleeve, his knuckles white from the strain. A second later, warm liquid spattered onto the back of her hand, carrying a thick, metallic scent.

Danielle’s body went rigid, her blood turning to ice. She looked down, and in the dim light, the stark red stain made her heart clench and her breath catch in her throat.

The cold notification was like a bucket of icy water, extinguishing the last flicker of hope in her heart. She stared at the screen, then back at the man on the bed, suffering in silence. A profound sense of helplessness washed over her. Here, on this Antarctic ice sheet, cut off by the blizzard, they were utterly abandoned by the world.

She was right beside him, yet she couldn't do a single thing to ease his pain.

Danielle slowly sank to her knees and took Alexander’s hand, which dangled over the side of the bed. It was still cold, a biting chill that seemed to seep into her own skin.

“Alexander, hold on,” she choked out. “There has to be a way. There has to be.”

The man on the bed looked at her and managed a faint, wry smile. “What are you worried about? I've been coughing for years. I’m not going to die from it.”