Regretting the Wife He Threw Away novel Chapter 210

Stewart stood frozen in place, unable to move or speak.

For a long moment, he just stood there, unresponsive, as fragments from the past flickered through his mind—each memory sharp and vivid, like a film playing in fast-forward.

He remembered Christmas Eve, the night she said she wasn't feeling well. He’d thought she was just upset, sulking over something trivial, and had brushed her off. Now, looking back, he realized she must have already been pregnant then.

Other moments surfaced—times when Irwin got close to her and she instinctively shielded her belly, as if protecting something precious.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Stewart knew it was Rosita calling, but right now, he had no desire to answer.

With heavy steps, he started toward the emergency room, every stride feeling heavier than the last.

Cedric Clarke followed quietly behind.

They reached the doors just outside the emergency room. Only then did Cedric finally speak. “After the miscarriage, she never really recovered. Remember in Ghana—she collapsed almost as soon as we landed? I thought it was odd at the time.”

Stewart stared at the glowing red letters spelling EMERGENCY above the door, his gaze fixed and unwavering.

After a long silence, he finally exhaled, lips pressed in resignation, as if conceding to Cedric’s explanation.

He asked, “If she lost the baby a long time ago, then why is she suddenly in so much pain and bleeding now?”

“We’ll have to wait for Dr. Grant to come out for a full answer, but I’m guessing it’s probably a complication with her uterus.”

Stewart fell silent again, lost in thought.

After about ten minutes, the emergency room doors swung open.

Stella strode out, clutching a surgical consent form. “You and Bryn still aren’t officially divorced, and she doesn’t have any other family. That means you’re the only one who can sign off on this.”

“What’s the consent for?”

“It’s for a hysterectomy.”

Stewart’s eyes widened in shock.

Seeing his hesitation, Stella barked, “Hurry up! Bryn’s blood type is rare—she doesn’t have time!”

The words hit Stewart like a punch to the chest. He couldn’t delay any longer. Setting his jaw, he scrawled his name across the form—his handwriting shaky and uneven, a far cry from his usual confident signature.

Stella snatched up the consent form and rushed back into the emergency room.

The doors slammed shut once more.

Stewart stared at them, his eyes dull and shadowed.

He stood there as if turned to stone, every muscle rigid, his breathing heavy and labored.

The hand that had just signed the form hung limply at his side, his fingers still trembling.

After a long while, he closed his eyes, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat.

No one could have known what was going through his mind in that moment.