Goodbye, Mr. Regret novel Chapter 279

After practicing for a while, she paused to sip some water, repeating the cycle for over half an hour.

When she saw the time, she gathered her things, ready to head to the hospital and meet Herbert to ask about the minimally invasive surgery. If it worked out, she could have the procedure done abroad.

Deep down, Jessica knew her condition was connected to her nervous system. If the damage couldn’t be fully healed, it might be a long time before she could speak again.

She tidied up and stepped out the door—only to find someone standing there.

Her pupils narrowed in surprise.

Timothy was leaning against the wall, right by the elevator where the public trash bin stood, its cigarette stub tray overflowing with discarded butts. Even the air carried a faint, lingering scent of smoke.

Timothy, usually so put-together, had stubble shading his jaw.

He straightened, crossing the hallway with his long strides, his dark eyes gentle, his voice softer than she remembered. “Come home with me. I promise, what happened yesterday won’t happen again.”

Jessica turned away, refusing to meet his gaze—or listen to his words.

Did he really think that just by waiting outside her door all night, she’d forgive him and come running back?

Maybe once, she would have.

But not anymore.

Timothy tried to coax her, his tone patient. “I’ve got it all planned out. Next month, on Henry’s sixth birthday, we’ll have our wedding.”

If Jessica weren’t so determined to hide the fact that she could make sounds again, she might’ve laughed right in his face.

He wanted a secret marriage, so there was a secret marriage; now he wanted a wedding, so there’d be a wedding? When had he ever asked for her opinion?

“You’re not mute by birth—why didn’t you ever tell me? If you had, I’d have made sure you got treatment. Since Dr. Smith says there’s a specialist abroad who can help, I’ll go with you tomorrow. Until you’re well, use this ring to speak.”

Jessica tried to yank her hand free, but Timothy wove his fingers through hers, refusing to let go.

He held her hand, knowing she couldn’t reply in sign language here—not that he needed her to say anything. He just wanted her to listen.

“About the character Dr. Smith mentioned—if you want it, take it. You don’t have to go overseas to work on animation; I’ll talk to Dr. Smith and make arrangements so you can work from home. I’m compromising here, so let’s stop fighting, okay? Just… try to be good, all right?”

This chaotic, unraveling marriage wasn’t what he wanted. He longed for the quiet stability they used to share.

He was away on business often, but whenever he came home and she was there, it felt like a safe harbor—a place to rest. Now, the cold distance between them unsettled him.

Before Jessica could respond, her phone rang.