My Deceased Wife Wants a Divorce (Hannah) novel Chapter 213

His voice was calm, devoid of emotion, but his words made Hannah’s body tremble violently. They were like steel needles, driving deep into her heart.

She opened her mouth, wanting to ask him why. If Sandra had done so much for him, sponsoring his education and his business, why had he never said a word about it?

A bitter laugh escaped Lionel’s lips. “Sandra knew you liked me, knew about our relationship. She was always careful to keep her distance. But you…”

“Why did you never tell me any of this?” Hannah’s voice was a choked whisper.

“How could I have told you?” he shot back, his voice rising in anger. “Look at yourself now. She’s done nothing wrong, yet you attack her again and again. If I had told you back then, what would you have done?”

“Sandra said you were still in school, working hard to make ends meet. She didn't want you to worry, so she asked me not to tell you. And now you’re using that as an excuse to hurt her. You’ve changed, Hannah. You were never like this before.”

Hearing the raw disappointment in his voice, Hannah felt a strange sense of clarity wash over her. She pushed a stray strand of hair from her face and took a deep breath.

“So, even when we were dating, you had already decided I was the kind of irrational, jealous person who would throw a fit just because you had a female friend?” The absurdity of it all made her laugh, a broken, hollow sound.

“Thank you for telling me this. But my answer is the same. I had nothing to do with Quennel arranging Sandra’s marriage.”

Before Lionel could respond, she hung up and blocked his number.

She sat on the bench, numb, watching the light dance on the water, the people passing by, the sounds of happy chatter all around her. Her heart ached with a dull, throbbing pain.

So they had a history she never knew about. A part of her was jealous that Sandra had known him first. But more than that, she was consumed by a burning hatred. Hatred for the fact that he had decided from the very beginning that she was too unreasonable to be trusted with the truth.

Quennel sat down beside her, his gaze soft as he looked at her red-rimmed eyes. “Have you eaten? There’s a great restaurant nearby. Would you like to try it with me?”

Hannah shook her head. She hadn't eaten, but she had no appetite.

“Well, I haven’t eaten yet, and there are several dishes I want to try. I probably can’t finish them all by myself. Could you help me out?” Quennel asked.

Hearing him coax her like a child, Hannah’s composure finally shattered. She turned away, taking deep, shuddering breaths to try and stop the tears.

“Let’s go,” Quennel said, standing and moving in front of her. “No matter what happened, I’m here. I’ll help you.”