The Unwanted Wife's Return (Ex-Husband Wants Me Back) novel Chapter 167

Tears at the Headstones

ELIJAH’S POV:

Her eyes had softened, taking on an almost childlike quality. Wonder mixed with heartbreaking confusion. Like a little girl discovering something precious she’d lost long ago.

She turned to look at me, seeking confirmation that this was real.

I nodded gently, not trusting my voice to stay steady if I spoke.

Hannah took a tentative step forward, releasing my hand slowly. Then she lowered herself carefully to her knees on the grass in front of the headstones. A quiet exhale escaped her that quickly broke into a choked, painful sound.

“Hi,” she whispered shakily to the stones. “I don’t know where to start. I don’t even know if you can hear me, on if this is crazy, talking to stones in the ground.”

Her shoulders began to tremble. She reached out and brushed her fingers over her mother’s name, tracing each letter slowly and carefully, as if trying to memorize the woman she’d never known through the carved stone.

“I wish…” Her voice cracked completely. “I wish I missed you. I wish I had memories of you to hold onto. I wish I could feel something besides this huge, empty spot in my chest where loving you should be.”

Tears started streaming down her cheeks, falling freely onto the grass and stone.

“I didn’t even know you existed until a month ago,” she continued, letting out a weak, broken laugh. “Can you believe that? I lived my whole life not knowing. And then everything happened so fast. It’s been… I don’t know if it was the heavens or maybe you watching over me somehow, but everything has been such a huge, complicated mess.”

Her words began tumbling out faster now, more broken, more raw.

“They hurt me so badly,” she said, and I could hear the pain in every syllable. “The people who took me. They lied to me my entire life. They stole me from you. They treated me like I was a mistake that never should have happened. Janet, my supposed sister, she tortured me. My supposed parents, they made me feel worthless every single day.”

She swallowed hard, her hands balling into fists against her thighs.

She cried for several long minutes. Raw, messy, painful crying that she desperately needed to release. And I was so incredibly glad that she felt safe enough to break down completely in front of me like this.

When her sobs finally began to slow, when her breathing started to even out slightly, I helped her stand. I didn’t rush her. I just gave her something solid to lean against, letting her take her time.

She took the flowers from my hands, and I watched as she carefully placed one bouquet on each grave. Her movements were tender, reverent.

“The choice of flowers is gorgeous,” she said softly, running her fingers over the sunflower petals. “Sunflowers were a good choice.”

“Your aunt told me they were your mother’s favorite,” I admitted quietly.

Her head snapped up, eyes wide. “You talked to my aunt already?”

I smiled mysteriously. “I’ll explain soon.”