Goodbye, Mr. Regret novel Chapter 102

"It's me, Timothy. I'll be back the night after tomorrow. Ask Mabel to help you out more with Henry."

After sending the message, Timothy handed Sheila's phone back to her.

"Finish that sketch as soon as you can. Bring it to the expo in two days and show it to Ines."

Sheila nodded. "That's my plan as well."

"Alright, I'll leave you to it. I have to run an errand."

Once Timothy left, Sheila picked up her phone and saved the most recent call. She glanced over the text messages, then opened her messenger app and added a new contact.

Note: Jessica, it's Sheila.

When Jessica received Timothy's message, another notification popped up—someone wanted to add her as a friend. She paused when she read the note.

Timothy had called and texted her using Sheila's number.

So, they'd been together this whole time.

Of course.

Her nephew and her younger sister sharing a hotel room—what kind of story was that supposed to be?

As his lawful wife, Jessica couldn't help but sneer at Timothy's utter lack of concern for appearances. He contacted her openly, using Sheila's phone, as if nothing was wrong.

What did he take her for?

He'd claimed Sheila was allergic to hotel rooms and needed to stay at their house. And now, suddenly, a hotel room didn't bother her anymore?

He couldn't even be bothered to lie well—his excuses were full of holes.

And she was still foolishly waiting for some kind of explanation.

Her flight was boarding. Jessica shut off her phone and got in line to show her ticket.

Once on the plane, she closed her eyes, determined to rest.

She didn't care to worry about Henry anymore. With Sallie there, he'd be just fine.

His appendectomy had been minor, the incision small, and he was already recovering quickly. The doctor said he could be discharged the next day.

As the afternoon wore on, Sallie called Jessica to let her know she was leaving and it was her turn to look after Henry.

Opening the containers, Mabel sat beside Henry's bed. "Let me help you eat, Henry."

Henry frowned. "Where's my mom?"

His mom had stayed the night at the hospital and gone home to rest that morning. If she was home, she'd have cooked for him, no question.

He'd assumed dinner was her handiwork.

But the moment Mabel opened the takeout containers, he knew it wasn't.

He was immediately disappointed.

"Your mom probably had to step out. Let's eat first, okay?"

"I don't want it."

He hadn't tasted his mother's cooking in days, and he longed for that unique flavor only she could create.

"Henry, you need to eat to get better. Come on, be good, let's have some dinner."

"I want my mom's food. Call her and tell her to come back and cook for me."