Lost Me, Gained Regret (Jane and Bryant Ferguson) novel Chapter 199

I couldn't see through Bryant.

All I could do was instinctively step back. "What do you mean?"

"Can we not get a divorce? Please?" Bryant clutched my wrist, his fingers tracing my pulse, "From now on, it's only you that I want. No one else matters."

I asked, "Including Teresa and Margaret?"

He said firmly, "Yes."

"Bryant," I sneered, full of disbelief. "Can you even convince yourself of that?"

If it was a sudden epiphany, it was far too late. I hadn't expected him to believe me, but it wasn't enough to make up for the past between us.

His voice was low. "So, you still don't want to remain my wife?"

I looked at him squarely, saying firmly, "Yes, I don't."

If we could go back to before we lost the baby and he made this decision, I might have agreed in a heartbeat. But right then, I couldn't find any reason to say yes.

Was it when he rushed past me to help someone else when I was knocked down? Or was it when the slap he gave me as I miscarried wasn't harsh enough? Our marriage was beyond saving.

Bryant was silent for a long while, his grip on my hand tightening until, finally, his eyes cleared, filled with bitter irony. "I could even pretend I never saw these photos. Isn't that enough?"

His words felt like a bucket of ice water poured over me in the dead of winter, chilling me from head to toe, freezing my blood.

I smiled, but tears welled up first, breaking free from his grasp, "So, you never believed me? Bryant, is that what you think of me?"

That night, after I had finished washing up and was half-lying in bed reading, I suddenly heard a flurry of anxious voices downstairs.

Instinctively preparing to check, I barely opened the door when I heard Gary nearly pleading, "Even if you don't care about your health, think about Mr. Timothy. What will happen to the Ferguson family if you collapse?"

Only Bryant and I warranted such respect from Gary in the vast Ferguson Mansion.

I paused, feeling a tug at my heart, which quickly settled, thinking Bryant was nearly thirty and should know better than to neglect his health.

Right. With that thought, I closed the door again.

Just before it shut, I heard Bryant's hoarse voice. "It's nothing serious. Call the doctor over, will you?"