The Wife You Buried Is Back from Hell novel Chapter 859

Ever since her call with Rebecca, she had been unable to sit still, her work completely forgotten. Finally, her phone rang. It was Rebecca.

“How is he?”

“He’s stable now, resting in a regular room,” Rebecca said, her voice laced with exhaustion. “But… it’s not good. He’s awake, but his state of mind is terrible. He has absolutely no will to live. Danielle, I think you should come. Maybe you’re the only one who can get through to him.”

A sharp pain shot through Danielle’s chest. Her hand tightened around her phone. She could picture Alexander’s despair, and a wave of heartache and fear washed over her, making it hard to breathe.

She took a shaky breath. “I understand. I’ll request leave immediately. I’ll fly to Northridge City tonight.”

After hanging up, Danielle shot up from her chair and headed straight for the dean’s office. With her leave approved, she booked the first available flight.

A few hours later, the plane touched down at Northridge Airport. Danielle grabbed her luggage and hurried out of the terminal, hailing a cab to the hospital.

Outside his room, she took a deep breath to compose herself before gently pushing the door open.

Alexander was lying in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. At the sound of the door, he slowly turned his head. When he saw Danielle, his hand clenched beneath the covers. He took a slow breath, the dull ache in his chest still present, but he forced himself to sit up.

“Why are you here?” he asked, his tone a strange mix of detachment and self-mockery. “Did Rebecca call you to cry on my behalf again?”

She looked at his tense profile, her voice trembling slightly. “Alexander, why do you have to be like this? Pushing away everyone who cares about you?”

His fingers twitched, but he didn’t look up. He simply pulled his hand from hers, turned over, and faced the wall. “Leave me alone.”

Danielle stood frozen, staring at his thin back, her eyes beginning to burn. He was so clearly broken, yet he insisted on wrapping himself in a cloak of indifference. She clenched her fists, said nothing more, and walked toward the door. Her footsteps were soft but heavy, each one landing like a blow on Alexander’s heart.

The moment the door clicked shut, the room was plunged back into silence. Alexander squeezed his eyes shut, his body trembling uncontrollably, his shoulders shaking as the cold facade he had maintained shattered into a million pieces. He pressed a hand to his chest, where the pain was blooming again—a suffocating, oppressive weight.

Sometimes, he couldn’t find a single reason to exist.