My Deceased Wife Wants a Divorce (Hannah) novel Chapter 242

As Yves spoke, Hannah’s gaze dropped, and she pressed her lips together into a thin line.

Realizing his tone had been too sharp, Yves immediately softened his voice. “I’m sorry, that came out harsher than I meant. I’m just worried about you.”

When Peter had called, Yves had frozen for a few seconds, convinced he’d misheard. Rushing to the hospital, he found Hannah lying in bed, looking pale and utterly exhausted. He remembered the vibrant, cheerful girl she used to be and felt a pang of anger at how she’d been worn down to this.

Lionel, he thought bitterly, if you could see her like this, wouldn’t you feel even a shred of remorse?

Hannah shook her head, forcing a faint smile. “I know you’re just looking out for me, Mr. Lancaster. I just let my anger get the best of me. It won’t happen again.”

Even as she said it, she felt a wave of uncertainty. She couldn’t promise she’d be able to control herself. Today, she could have just ignored them, let him drive her to work, and focused on her own life.

But…

She couldn’t let it go. She was too stubborn, too suspicious, too caught up in it all. That’s why she’d acted on impulse, buying the roses and the breakfast, making a scene. She didn’t even understand why she felt compelled to do it.

Seeing her eyes well up with tears, Yves pulled a tissue from the box on the nightstand and handed it to her.

Hannah thanked him quietly and dabbed at the corners of her eyes.

“I’m fine, really, Mr. Lancaster. I’ve had plenty of rest. You don’t have to stay with me any longer. I don’t want my problems to interfere with your work.”

Just as Yves was about to reply, Hannah’s phone buzzed.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Lancaster!”

After setting a time with Tess, Hannah had the doctor check her over one last time. Confirmed to be stable, she completed the discharge paperwork, and Yves drove her to meet her friend.

As Hannah got into his car, Lionel was coming downstairs and saw the scene, his brow furrowing in confusion. He was shocked to see her at the hospital at all—he thought she’d left hours ago—and even more surprised to see Yves with her.

He pulled out his phone to call her, his frustration mounting as the call went straight to the familiar, infuriating automated message. It was a stark, repetitive reminder that she’d blocked him again. He’d lost count of how many times it had happened this month.

He then tried calling Yves.

Inside the car, Yves glanced at the incoming call, a dismissive smile touching his lips before he rejected it.