The Wife You Buried Is Back from Hell novel Chapter 743

Before Danielle could say a word, Alexander stepped forward and gently draped a cardigan over her shoulders. His fingertips brushed her neck by accident, cool and light as a whisper.

“It gets chilly at night. You should wear something warmer.”

Danielle pulled the cardigan closer, catching the lingering, clean scent of his soap. She glanced up at Alexander and asked quietly, “Did you get everything sorted out? Was it smooth?”

Alexander nodded, his eyes drifting over the arrangements in the room. “The guest list, the burial details… and Nathan—I’ve asked someone to keep an eye on him.”

Danielle paused, then understood. After the way Nathan had acted that afternoon, she realized Alexander must have sensed something was off too.

She nodded, wanting to ask a thousand things, but this wasn’t the place.

Alexander didn’t say anything more. He simply stood beside her, silent, keeping her company as they gazed at her grandmother’s photograph.

The night deepened. Soft conversations from family members drifted through the funeral parlor, making the quiet feel even heavier.

From a distance, the muffled sounds of arriving mourners could be heard—their footsteps and hushed voices drawing near, dissolving into subdued sobs and murmured condolences at the door.

Danielle pulled the cardigan tighter around herself. Somehow, with Alexander there, the chill in the air didn’t seem so harsh.

A strange, tangled feeling welled up inside her.

He was always so reserved, so distant—yet right now, she couldn’t sense any of that coldness.

She didn’t know how long they stood there before Alexander finally spoke, his voice unusually clear in the hush. “Will you stay with me tonight? Keep vigil?”

His tone was calm, almost flat, but Danielle could hear a hint of tension beneath his composure.

She turned to look at him. The soft light cast gentle shadows on his sharp features, and for once, his normally distant eyes held a quiet warmth as he gazed at her.

Danielle remembered what her grandmother always used to say: “Alex might seem cold on the outside, but he’s got a warm heart.”

She nodded, her answer barely louder than a breath, but just enough for him to hear. “Okay.”

Not just for her—but because her grandmother deserved someone to keep watch through the night.

Alexander’s lips seemed to curl up, just barely—a hint of a smile, like the first thaw of spring.

He turned and walked to a corner where a couple of chairs waited, nestled beside a pair of worn cushions.

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