Goodbye, Mr. Regret

To him, she was always optional—there if he felt like it, invisible when he didn't.

On a whim, he might indulge her with a few sweet words. Most of the time, though, she was left to the sidelines, quietly waiting for attention that would never

come.

He would run himself ragged for Sheila's career, tirelessly working to open doors for her, while Jessica, as his wife, was expected to tag along-her presence merely another brick in the road to Sheila's success.

But Jessica was done being blind to reality. She was finished with this marriage. It had to end.

He would probably never understand that her heart was made of flesh and blood too, that even she could hurt.

"Timothy, is this really fair?" Ines' voice broke the tense silence. "I actually think she has a point. Jessica, more than anyone, needs the chance to prove herself. If she succeeds, her inability to speak fluently will become an advantage, a testament to how much harder she's had to work. Are you sure you won't let her pursue her own career?"

"It's not that I won't let her," Timothy replied, his voice deep and maddeningly smooth. "Jessica doesn't want to work, and honestly, she doesn't need to. Being Mrs. Lawson isn't enough of a crown already?"

His words, beautiful as they sounded, cut like glass. Jessica wondered if this was what it meant to be killed with kindness-Timothy was a master at it.

On the other end of the room, Sheila chimed in, her tone carrying a hint of bitterness. "You're right, Timothy. Marrying you was already the pinnacle for her. With you to shelter her, she doesn't need to exhaust herself chasing a career."noveldrama

Timothy heard the edge in Sheila's words, and for a moment, his voice softened. "Don't overthink it," he murmured. "Get some rest. We'll head back to Riverside later."

Sheila gathered her suitcase and said goodbye.

After she left, Timothy returned to the bedroom. Jessica was curled up on the couch, arms wrapped around her knees, the corners of her eyes still red.

He walked over and crouched in front of her, his voice low and rough with fatigue. "I've asked my assistant to book a flight for tonight. Henry's been home alone too long-I'm worried about him. Let's try to get back today."

Without waiting for a response, he scooped her up and laid her gently on the bed, tucking the blanket around her.

Standing by the bed, he removed his jacket and suit with careful, practiced movements, then slipped under the covers himself.

Jessica immediately sat up, retreating to the far corner of the bed.

Timothy's gaze was dark and unreadable, his lips pressed into a thin line. In the next second, he reached out, pulled her into his arms, and held her tight.

"Sleep," he commanded, his tone brooking no argument.

He was exhausted.

After being interrupted twice, he had no interest in anything but rest. He hadn't slept well in days, and he just wanted her beside him for a while before their flight to Riverside.

Jessica lay trapped in his embrace, unable to move. She didn't want to look so small and defeated in front of him—but at least, this time, he didn't try anything. He just held her, his arms wrapped tightly around her.

Maybe he truly was tired, because within minutes, his breathing slowed and evened out. He was asleep.

His warm breath fanned across her skin. Jessica watched him-so impossibly handsome, even in sleep, it was almost unreal.

But she no longer yearned for him, and she certainly wasn't going with him and Sheila back to Riverside.

When his sleep deepened, she carefully lifted his arm from around her. It took everything she had not to wake him as she grabbed her bag and crept to the bedroom door.

Her phone rang at the worst possible moment, shattering the silence.

There was no hiding the abrupt, shrill ringtone.

On the bed, Timothy's eyes snapped open.

Propping himself up on one elbow, his eyes dark as ink, he asked in a low, calm

voice, "Where do you think you're going?"