The Wife You Buried Is Back from Hell novel Chapter 702

Alexander’s heart lurched violently—he shot upright in bed, a faint, almost imperceptible tremor in his voice. “Come in.”

The door opened. The first thing he saw was Danielle.

She wore a simple white dress, her long hair falling loosely over her shoulders. Her face looked pale, her eyes clouded with a tangle of emotions.

And beside her, clutching her hand, was a tiny figure.

Niki.

It was the first time Danielle had brought their daughter to see him since the divorce.

Alexander felt as though something had lodged in his throat, making it impossible to speak. A thousand words pressed at his lips, yet not a single one escaped.

He could only stare at his daughter, emotion dark and tangled in his deep-set eyes.

Danielle’s gaze settled on him lying there in the hospital bed. Even here, surrounded by sterile white walls, he seemed cold, distant as ever.

She couldn’t help but think that everything this time around was unfolding so differently. In their past life, at this very moment, she’d never discovered any hint of illness in Alexander. He’d always been so healthy.

Or maybe, back then, she’d just missed the signs.

Alexander turned his gaze to Danielle. His voice was cool and measured, each word slow and deliberate. “Have you eaten?”

Danielle drew a steadying breath.

Small talk—pointless and insincere. She had no patience for it.

Her eyes were steady and cold as steel. “Alexander, things have come to this—are you still going to keep me in the dark? What’s wrong with you? What illness do you have?”

It felt as if every answer had slipped through her fingers, replaced by a maze of new questions. Questions that only Alexander seemed to know the answers to.

Alexander’s eyes locked on hers, somber and intense. A faint, self-deprecating smile tugged at his lips. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

A heavy silence settled over the room.

Alexander looked at his daughter’s small, fragile figure. His heart clenched, squeezed tight by invisible hands, the pain nearly suffocating.

Suddenly, Niki lifted her head. Her eyes, wide and clear, shimmered with unshed tears, wounded and unsure. Her voice was barely more than a whisper. “Is it true… you never liked me?”

Alexander’s lips quivered. He opened his mouth, but no words came. None at all.

The person he’d let down most—more than Danielle, more than anyone—was this timid, delicate little girl.

The silence in the hospital room stretched on, thick and suffocating.

Danielle watched Alexander, saw the pain etched across his face, and the way he still said nothing—not to her, not even to their daughter.

She let out a soft sigh, gently taking Niki’s hand. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go. Let him rest.”