Cold Husband Burning Regret: The Divorce He Couldn't Handle novel Chapter 218

Miranda never imagined that one day, he would actually remember.

She sat beside him, her tone gentle but firm. “Evander, that happened when you were eight. It’s perfectly normal if you don’t remember it. There’s nothing for you to dwell on.”

Evander shut his eyes, drawing in a deep breath, silent.

A doctor emerged from the ER, scanning the hallway. “Who here is Tricia’s family?”

Evander’s eyes snapped open. He stood up. “…That’s me.”

“And you are her…?”

Before Evander could answer, Miranda interjected, “They’re cousins—distant ones. Her parents aren’t around, I’m his mother.”

Relieved, the doctor nodded. “The patient’s not in any danger. She lost some blood, but a few days’ rest and she’ll be just fine.”

When the doctor left, Miranda shot Evander a look. “Why are you so invested in Tricia’s life or death? Don’t forget, you have a wife.”

Evander was silent for a long time. Finally, he murmured, “She’ll understand.”

Miranda rolled her eyes. “Evander, no woman will ever understand her husband going out of his way for another woman. If she does, it means she doesn’t care about you at all.”

With that, Miranda walked off, leaving Evander behind. His hand clenched at his side. He had never truly wondered if Charlotte cared for him. All he knew was, Charlotte had married him—she was his.

If her heart belonged to someone else…

A cold shadow flickered in Evander’s eyes. He would never allow that.

—

That afternoon, Charlotte received a text from Evander: He’d be home late. No need to wait for him for dinner.

She didn’t care anymore.

She blocked his number and WhatsApp, then quietly packed her things—three suitcases, all her own possessions. She left everything else behind.

Charlotte placed a signed copy of the divorce papers, along with her work phone, right in the middle of the living room—somewhere he couldn’t possibly miss.

When she was done, she stepped outside and deleted her fingerprint from the door’s code lock, erasing the last physical trace of her life here.

Downstairs, she called Julian.

Relief flickered briefly across his face. “You’re awake.”

“You shouldn’t have saved me.” Tears glimmered in Tricia’s eyes. “In your eyes—and Charlotte’s—I’m nothing but a criminal. Why bother saving me?”

“If you’re innocent, why try to take your own life?”

She fell silent, her smile turning bitter. “You two never believed me. To everyone here, I’m just the homewrecker who killed Charlotte’s parents. Sure, I was jealous of Charlotte, but I never wanted to hurt anyone…”

Evander’s gaze was unreadable, deep and cold. “Don’t ever do this again. Remember, Hans still needs you.”

She choked back a sob. “What future does Hans have, with a mother like me?”

“That’s enough. Get some rest.” Evander cut off her self-pity, standing to leave. Tricia grabbed his sleeve, sobbing, “Evander, don’t go. Please, don’t leave me alone. My thoughts keep racing, and every time I remember the kidnapping, I get so scared!”

He didn’t move, letting her cling to him.

He couldn’t recall the kidnapping itself, but his mother had told him it happened. Somewhere deep in his memory, there was a blurry figure—a silhouette that felt hauntingly familiar.

Could that shadowy figure in his mind really be Tricia?