Secretly Married for 4 Years, He Regrets to Tears After the Divorce

Chapter 256: Chapter 256: Those Hard, Cold Facts from the Past

The gentle question, like a pebble dropped into a still lake, sent ripples through Wren Sutton’s seemingly calm heart.

The fingers of the hand resting on her lap curled slightly, cool to the touch. Her gaze remained locked on her two sleeping children.

Silence spread between mother and daughter.

Wren Sutton’s mind was in turmoil—a torrent of unhealed wounds, doubts about her current situation, uncertainty about the future, and the overwhelming weight of her mother’s concern.

Every breath she took seemed more forceful than usual, as if she were trying to expel the chaotic emotions congesting her chest.

She seemed to want to speak. Her lips parted slightly, only to press tightly together again, forcing back the words that had almost escaped.

Mrs. Sutton was growing anxious. "Wren, silence won’t solve anything. Are you planning on never talking to your mother again?"

"..."

"Wren, whatever you say, I won’t argue. Just speak. Let me know what you’re really thinking so I can help you."

"Mom..." After a long moment, Wren Sutton finally spoke, her voice a little hoarse. "I don’t know."

The answer was so simple it was almost hollow, even sounding dismissive. Mrs. Sutton’s heart sank, as if clenched by an invisible hand.

It wasn’t because of her daughter’s uncertainty, but because she saw the confusion and pain in her eyes.

This wasn’t a melodramatic act or a fit of pique. It was the instinctive fear and helplessness of a person who had wandered through emotional ruins for a long time, now faced with the possibility of repair and reconstruction.

"Adrian Lancaster has indeed changed. I see everything he’s been doing. Especially with the two children—he’s so hands-on, meticulous, and careful. He does more than the nanny."

Mrs. Sutton didn’t deny that Adrian Lancaster was a competent father. He was doing a great job, an impeccable one.

"He’s their father. It’s his duty to take care of the children; that’s his responsibility. What I want to know is, how is he treating *you*?"

Wren Sutton pulled back her gaze, her eyes sweeping past the study door.

"It’s different from before. In the past, his actions were often empty. He took me for granted. There was even neglect and impatience. Now..."

She paused, a faint glint flashing in the corner of her eye.

"Now, there’s a cautious eagerness to please and unconcealable guilt."

"Mom, I can see it." Wren Sutton’s voice finally held a subtle tremor, tinged with a hint of self-mockery.

"I’m not stupid. I can tell the difference between what’s real and what’s an act. At least his guilt and his attempts to please me now seem genuine."

The weight on Mrs. Sutton’s heart finally lifted. She took her daughter’s hand and patted it reassuringly.

"If Adrian feels guilty and blames himself, it means he recognizes his mistakes. He’s willing to and is in the process of correcting them, bit by bit, and making amends. Wren, try to look on the bright side. This is a good thing."

Wren Sutton shifted in her seat, wearily resting her forehead in her hand and letting out a soft sigh.

"Sometimes, when I see Adrian Lancaster’s back as he bustles around for me and the kids, when I hear Owen and Nina’s giggles as he lifts them high in the air, I feel dazed for a moment and think that maybe I can just live like this."

"For the sake of the children growing up in a complete family, to stop you and Dad from worrying, and even for myself... so I can be a little lazy and indulge in this rare sense of peace..."

Her voice trailed off, thick with emotion.

"I don’t want to struggle anymore. I’m just so tired. Too tired to even think about love or trust. I just want to close my eyes and drift along with the current."

As she said this, Wren Sutton’s voice suddenly choked, as if something was caught in her throat.

She lowered her head, staring at her own hands, clasped so tightly her knuckles had turned white, as if they held the answers to all her confusion.

The afternoon sun shifted an inch, illuminating the pale blue veins on the back of her hands, making them look especially pale and fragile.

"But, Mom..." When she looked up again, Wren Sutton’s eyes were red, welling with moisture.

The composure she had struggled to maintain finally tore apart, revealing the raw, bloody wound beneath.

Tears stubbornly swirled in her eyes, refusing to fall, yet it only made her gaze look more broken and pained.

"I can’t get over it. I really can’t."

A chill rose from the depths of her memory, as if she were back in those days and nights wrapped in despair and coldness.

"That chasm is too wide and too deep. It can’t be filled just because Adrian Lancaster cooks a few meals, feeds the babies a few times, or makes a few promises to change his ways."

Wren Sutton raised a hand and pressed it hard against her heart.

"All those hard, cold facts from the past are like a stone in my chest that can never be warmed. It just sits there, and every heartbeat feels like it’s knocking against that stone, a dull, stifling pain."

Her speech unconsciously quickened, and her breathing became ragged.

The grievances and pain, suppressed for so long and deliberately buried, had finally found an outlet, threatening to burst through the dam of her reason.

"On our wedding day, before the ceremony was even over, Adrian Lancaster left early. To keep you and Dad from worrying, I lied and said he had urgent company business to attend to. But the truth is, he got a call from Maya Marshall."

"Things like that happened many times after we were married. No matter when or where, one phone call from Maya Marshall, and Adrian Lancaster would immediately fly to her side."

"Back then, he didn’t care about my feelings at all. The few times I tried to reason with him, to argue, all I got in return was more coldness and neglect."

"The thing that hurt the most, the thing that made me decide to divorce him, was when I was in the operating room. I needed a family member’s signature, so I called Adrian Lancaster. He was with Maya Marshall. And he was convinced I was lying. In the end, I had to sign the papers myself."

"Mom, do you have any idea how that felt?"

"I will never forget the cold lights and instruments of that operating room for the rest of my life."

Wren Sutton’s tears flowed as she spoke, her words punctuated by short sobs. Her chin trembled violently, uncontrollably.

"The feeling was just too painful. So painful that even thinking about it now makes my chest feel tight, like I can’t breathe."

"It’s like they’re a bunch of rusty needles with barbs, stuck in the softest part of my heart."

"Usually, it seems fine. The wound has scabbed over, and I think I’m healed, that I’ve forgotten."

"But the moment it’s touched, even just grazed, it’s still raw and bloody underneath the scab. Those barbs twist in my flesh, and the pain makes my whole body tremble."

Her voice was choked and almost broken, yet it carried a nearly self-destructive honesty.

"Now, Adrian Lancaster is good to me, good to the children. I see it. Rationally, I know he’s changing and trying to make amends."

"Sometimes, watching his clumsy efforts, seeing how the children rely on him, my heart just melts. I find myself craving this long-overdue, belated warmth."

"But I can’t, Mom. Every time I try to take a small step forward, try to get a little closer to him, those rusty needles start twisting in my flesh. That seemingly solid scab starts to crack and bleed."

"A cold voice screams in my head: ’Wren Sutton, you used to trust Adrian Lancaster with all your heart, without reservation. You loved him, cared for him meticulously, gave him everything. And what did you get in return? Nights spent waiting up for him, and cold, heartless betrayal. Do you really want to do it all over again? Do you really want to rip your heart out just to have it trampled on again?!’"

Wren Sutton raised a trembling hand, pointing weakly to her heart. Her fingertips were ice-cold, her voice hoarse and thick with desperate emotion.

"This place here is empty, Mom. It was hollowed out. Now it’s just barely held together with fragments, and it’s vacant inside, with a cold wind blowing through."

"But it’s also a mess, stuffed with fragments of the past, the sweetness of the present, my fear of the future, and my love for my children..."

"All these things are tangled together into a knot that I can’t unravel or cut through."

"I don’t know how to untangle this mess. I don’t know how to pull out those rusty thorns one by one."

Fresh tears welled up, blurring her vision.

"I’m afraid that my heart softening now, my craving for this peace, is just me forgetting the pain now that the wound has scarred over. I’m afraid it’s a sign that I’m about to make the same mistake all over again—the start of an even greater tragedy."

"I don’t have the courage or the strength to endure that kind of disappointment and heartbreak a second time."

"If it happens again, I think I’ll really shatter, and I won’t ever be able to be put back together again."