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

Chapter 258: Chapter 258: His Fingertip Caresses the Reddened Corner of Her Eye

Wren stared blankly at her mother. The tears pooled in her eyes finally spilled over, tracing paths down her cheeks and dripping onto their clasped hands.

All the confusion and bewilderment in her heart seemed to dissolve and wash away in those warm drops.

Through the blur of her tears, her mother’s figure seemed clearer and more resolute than ever.

Once the tears had passed, Wren’s swollen red eyelids trembled. When she lifted her gaze, the murky haze was gone, replaced by the pure clarity of the sky after a spring rain.

The anguish and confusion that had nearly consumed her moments before had miraculously faded.

The feeling of being completely understood, of being unconditionally supported, was a current of warmth that slowly yet forcefully filled her empty, frigid chest, bringing a poignant sense of relief.

"Mom..." Wren’s voice was still a little hoarse from crying, yet it was clearer and steadier than ever before.

"Thank you. Thank you for every word you said."

She no longer put on a brave front, leaning gently against her mother’s shoulder as a sense of security, warmth, and happiness settled deep in her heart.

"I promise you." She enunciated each word, as if making a vow to both herself and her mother.

"From now on, I will truly love myself and live my own life to the fullest."

Mrs. Sutton took a deep breath, the moisture in her eyes glistening in the sunlight. A relieved and trusting smile graced her lips.

"Yes. I know you can do it."

The afternoon sun was perfect, streaming through the clean glass windows and bathing the living room in a soft, golden glow.

Dust motes danced in the beams of light, and the warm air was filled with a tranquility that made one feel drowsy.

On the sofa, Owen and Nina were still sound asleep, letting out soft, even snores. Their little faces were peaceful.

The tiny fists they had unconsciously clenched in their sleep had now completely relaxed, their fingers unfurled.

The door to the study, just off the living room, was shut tight, dividing the space into two separate, silent worlds.

Wren caught a faint, rhythmic sound seeping from the crack under the door.

"CLICK."

"CLICK."

It was the sound of a Go stone landing on a heavy, solid wood board—crisp and full, with a jade-like resonance.

The rhythm of the placements was steady and deliberate, each move a product of deep contemplation. It exuded the calm confidence of someone in full command of the situation, an unspoken power.

Click after click, the sound pierced the wooden door, tapping gently against the silence of the living room.

It was as if the sounds were silently declaring that even when life is turbulent, the game continues, and progress never ceases.

...

The afternoon tranquility was shattered by a faint whimper from Owen.

At first, it was just a restless squirm in his sleep, but the sound soon escaped the hold of slumber, becoming a clear, aggrieved cry.

Nina, lying beside him, seemed to take it as her cue. Her little mouth crumpled, and she began to cry at the top of her lungs as well.

In the study, a final white jade stone was hovering between Adrian’s fingertips, not yet placed on the board.

When the babies’ sharp cries pierced the wooden door, he instantly looked up. Across from him, Mr. Sutton also put down the black stone he’d been stroking for some time and gazed toward the door.

"Dad, I’ll go check on the children."

"Alright."

Adrian gently placed the stone back in its bowl, then rose and pulled open the door.

In the living room, Wren was lifting her head from her mother’s shoulder, about to get up and check on the children.

"They’re probably wet."

"Yeah," Adrian replied, his gaze quickly sweeping over Wren’s face. He took in the tear stains and swelling she hadn’t managed to completely hide, and his heart gave a slight stir.

But he didn’t stop. He walked straight to the bathroom, turned on the faucet, and carefully washed his hands, making sure to scrub between each finger. After drying them with a paper towel, he returned to the living room.

"Honey, I’ll take care of it. You keep Mom company and watch some TV."

Adrian took the baby from Wren’s arms and deftly undid the snaps on the front of the onesie, revealing the diaper underneath.

Sure enough, the light-blue wetness indicator had turned a deep blue, and the diaper was heavy.

With his left hand, Adrian carefully lifted the baby’s bottom. With his right, he efficiently unfastened the velcro tabs on the sides of the diaper, used the clean front section for a quick wipe, then slid the old diaper out from underneath, balled it up, and set it aside.

He then grabbed a warm, moist wipe and gently but thoroughly cleaned the baby from front to back.

Once finished, he used a soft, dry gauze cloth to gently pat away any remaining moisture before taking a clean diaper, unfolding it, and sliding it under the baby.

He adjusted its position front to back, pulled the front panel up to the baby’s belly, fastened the elastic side tabs symmetrically, and, as a final touch, made sure to pull out the anti-leak guards along the leg openings.

The entire process took no more than two or three minutes; it was methodical, meticulous, and thorough.

Now in clean, dry diapers, the two little ones’ whimpers turned into satisfied gurgles.

After finishing, Adrian’s gaze fell on Wren once more. His brow furrowed almost imperceptibly as he took two steps closer.

"Your eyes are so red, like you’ve been crying. What happened? Tell me."

Adrian’s voice was gentle as the pad of his thumb brushed the reddened corner of Wren’s eye.

Her skin was still cool and damp from her tears.

Wren’s eyelashes fluttered, and she turned her head away, avoiding his touch.

The roiling emotions and the conversation with her mother were now a secret caught in her throat.

In the end, she just shook her head and said nothing.

At this moment, Mrs. Sutton walked over.

She reached out, drew her daughter to her side, and gently patted Wren’s slender shoulder. Then she let out a long sigh.

"Wren has a heavy heart." Mrs. Sutton looked up at Adrian, her expression veiled in a perfectly calibrated mist of reminiscence.

"We were just chatting, and somehow we started talking about her grandmother. Wren was remembering her childhood—how her grandmother doted on her, fanning her to sleep in the summer and warming her cold little feet in the winter. Ah, just thinking about those days is enough to make your heart ache. So, she got upset and couldn’t hold back her tears."

Mrs. Sutton paused. Her gaze drifted past him toward the window, as if she were peering into the distant past, her tone settling into a deeper regret.

"Wren’s grandmother passed away right during the most critical days of her high school entrance exams. Her father and I were afraid it would affect her future, so after thinking it over, we made the hard decision to hide it from her. We didn’t let her know, so she never got to attend the funeral."

"It’s always been a weight on Wren’s conscience. She feels guilty, like it’s a regret that can never be made right."

Adrian listened quietly without interrupting.

His gaze slowly shifted from his mother-in-law’s face, filled with reminiscence and a quiet sorrow, back to Wren.

Her head was still bowed, the curve of her profile appearing fragile in the soft light. Her damp eyelashes, like the rain-slicked wings of a butterfly, trembled slightly, casting faint, moist shadows on her lower eyelids.

’So that was it. She was missing her grandmother.’

After a moment of silence, Adrian broke the quiet, his voice calm and steady.

"If she’s missing her grandmother, then we should go pay our respects properly."

He turned to Mrs. Sutton, his posture humble and respectful, his tone sincere.

"Mom, I remember Wren once mentioned that her grandmother’s hometown is Avenia, near Elmsworth. She said it’s a beautiful place, with lovely scenery and kind people."

"There’s no time like the present. Why don’t we drive down tomorrow? We can visit her grandmother’s grave, and we’ll bring Owen and Nina with us. What do you think?"

The proposal perfectly seized upon the reason Mrs. Sutton had offered—one steeped in sorrow and kinship—and turned it into a concrete, solemn family undertaking.

Hearing this, a bright light flashed in Mrs. Sutton’s eyes, the layer of faint sorrow replaced by a more vivid emotion.

She looked at Adrian and nodded in approval. "Adrian, that’s very thoughtful of you. We really should go back for a visit."

Then, Mrs. Sutton’s gaze fell back on her daughter.

"Wren, what do you think?"