Goodbye, Mr. Regret

Chapter 3 Jessica almost laughed at her own question—how ridiculous it was to ask now, when she was already dying. She didn't have the energy to keep pretending anymore.

But Sheila, it appeared, thought Jessica was just being jealous.- Sheila was Timothy's godmother's adopted daughter, and over the years, the elderly woman had treated her as if she were truly family. Sheila herself had cto believe she was a real member of the Howard family.

Sheila's smile faded. She stared at Timothy, her voice gentle but accusing. "Timothy, did you not tell Jessica? I'm your aunt." Jessica was stunned.

So the ever-elegant, impeccably mannered Timothy was a bit more complicated than she'd thought. And apparently, Sheila could understand sign language too.

Timothy answered Sheila in a lazy drawl, "Does it really matter if I told her or not? Don't worry about it. You can stay here tonight." Jessica's heart plummeted.

With that, Timothy asked Mabel to prepare a guest room.

The atmosphere in the living room turned stiff and awkward.

Sheila scolded Timothy lightly. "Timothy, Jessica is your wife. How can you speak to her like that?" The dark tension in Timothy's expression eased immediately. He actually listened to Sheila.

Henry, too, frowned. "Mom, Miss Sheila is Dad's aunt, so I'm supposed to call her 'great-aunt,' but she's so young, it feels weird. That's why I just call her 'Miss Sheila.' She's visiting us, and you're making such a fuss about preparing a room for her? Is it really that hard?" Jessica felt her heart shatter.

This was the boy she'd carried for nine months and raised with such care. Since she'd chthat afternoon, she'd been thinking about what would happen to Henry after she was gone. She'd been planning for his future, trying to make sure he'd be safe and loved.

But after just one meeting, Henry was already siding with Sheila over her. She realized she was no longer needed-not by her son, not by her husband. Sheila noticed the tension and quickly handed Henry over to Timothy, her tone soft. "Timothy, I'll just stay at a hotel tonight. I'll cby to see Henry tomorrow." She pulled her suitcase behind her and left without looking back.

Henry immediately burst into tears. "Miss Sheila, please don't go!" Timothy glanced over at Jessica, his dark eyes unreadable. "Jessica, you're being unreasonable today." Without another word, he pushed Henry into Jessica's arms. She caught her son reflexively.

Timothy followed Sheila out.

In all the seven years she'd been married to him, Jessica had never seen Timothy look so worried about anyone.

She was still in a daze when Henry began wriggling. "Putdown! Putdown!" She set him on his feet, only for Henry to shove her away. "Bad Mommy! You made Miss Sheila leave!" With that, he ran off to his room, slamming the door behind him.

Jessica felt as if her heart had been torn apart.

Mabel saw the scene unfold and wanted to comfort Jessica, but in the end, she couldn't find any words. Expressionless, Jessica walked to the master bedroom.

No chance to explain, is that it? Maybe this was fate. If so, she would simply leave without a word.

She gathered the medicine the doctor had prescribed that day and slipped it into her bag. As she opened it, her eyes fell on a bank card tucked into one of the pockets.

After she married Timothy, every tthey had guests or attended a public event, he'd tell her to stay away and transfer two hundred thousand to her account so she could go shopping instead.

Over the years, that card had accumulated nearly six and a half million.

Most of it was gone now.

She had never understood why Timothy, who had insisted on marrying her, seemed so ashamed of her because she couldn't speak.

She'd wanted to ask him so many times, but never dared.

She loved him too much-and Henry, even more.

For seven years, she'd dedicated herself to caring for Henry and keeping their himmaculate, rarely thinking of herself at all.

Now, she had cancer.

Six months left, at best.

All her sacrifices-gone to waste.

Suddenly, her phone rang, startling her.

It was Timothy's grandfather, Phelps Lawson.

Jessica couldn't speak, and Phelps rarely reached out to her directly. In the seven years since she'd married into the Lawson family, he'd been more polite to her than most, but still kept his distance.

She answered the call.

"Where's Timothy?" He paused, realizing she couldn't answer. "If he's with you, just tap the phone once." Jessica didn't move.

After a moment, Phelps's voice turned grave. "You've been married to Timothy for seven years and given him a son, but you still can't hold his heart?" Jessica's hand went cold.

Everyone knew her title-Mrs. Lawson-was nothing more than an empty shell.

Silent, she listened, unable to answer.

"You may not be able to speak, but you got Timothy to marry you and marry bear his child. That counts for something..."

He paused, then added, "Still, if Timothy's heart has changed, with your situation, you'l lose Henry. M wouldn'thind finding Henry a stepmother who can actually talk, but no stepmom can ever replace a real mother. Think about that." With that, Phelps hung up.

Whatever little courtesy Phelps had ever shown her waş was only because he thought she could keep Timothy by her side. His meaning was clear: if she lost Timothy, he'd replace her with Sheila in a heartbeat.

In families like the Lawsons, there was no room for scandal.

Poor Phelps, really.

She was the only one who hadn't realized how close Timothy and Sheila truly were.

Everything was so clear now: Timothy would never love her.

Even if she didn't ask for a divorce, he'd bring it up soon enough.

It was tto go.

To give back a place that had never really been hers.

Jessica slung her bag over her shoulder and grabbed the thick envelope of medical reports. Her eyes empty, she stepped out of the bedroom.

She didn't notice that, as she left, the diagnosis that had sentenced her life to its final chapter slipped quietly to the floor, coming to rest by the bed.