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

Chapter 286: Chapter 286: When Will You Break Up?

In an instant, all his emotions exploded.

Gazing at what lay before him, Sean Sterling’s Adam’s apple bobbed violently. His heart felt as if it were being squeezed by a warm hand—an aching, tender pang that hurt terribly.

He finally understood. Isla Griffith hadn’t hidden the documents to stall or to run away. She had used the clumsiest possible method to shield him from trouble, to shoulder the pressure for him, doing everything in her power to keep him from being torn between his family and the woman he loved.

The tip of Sean’s nose tingled, and a film of moisture welled up in his eyes.

After a moment, he took a deep breath, forcing down the surging tide of emotion. He zipped up the bag and placed it back where he found it, as if it had never been touched.

He would keep Isla’s secret; he wouldn’t expose her well-intentioned lie.

At the same time, a bold plan began to form in his mind. He would never let Isla down.

Once his emotions had settled, Sean turned and walked into the kitchen. He took out his phone and called the housekeeper.

"You don’t need to come cook tonight."

He was going to cook dinner for Isla himself.

There was an old hen in the fridge, bought just today. Its meat was tender, perfect for making a nourishing soup for a pregnant woman.

Sean tied on an apron, rolled up his sleeves, and began to carefully prepare the chicken.

He blanched the chicken and skimmed off the foam. Then, he placed the cut pieces into a clay pot with slices of ginger and red dates, setting it to simmer on the lowest heat.

The broth in the clay pot bubbled gently, its rich, mellow aroma filling the entire kitchen.

Just as the chicken soup had simmered down to a thick, golden broth and its aroma was at its peak, Sean’s phone rang. It was a call from Claire.

He quickly answered the phone. "Auntie."

Claire hummed in acknowledgment, her tone warm and smiling.

"Sean, your father has finally relented. He’s agreed to let you see your mother in her room. You should come over now. Your mom wants to see you, too."

Sean glanced at the time. "Okay, I’ll get ready and head over right away."

"Don’t rush. Drive safely," Claire added, her voice full of concern.

After hanging up, Sean swiftly ladled half of the savory chicken soup into a thermal flask, intending to bring it to the hospital for his mother to try.

He left the other half of the soup in the clay pot, setting it to "keep warm" so Isla could have some whenever she woke up.

With everything taken care of, Sean tiptoed into the bedroom.

Isla was still asleep, and he had no intention of waking her. He grabbed a notepad and a pen and left her a note.

Darling, something came up and I had to step out. There’s chicken soup in the pot. Remember to have some when you wake up. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Call me right away if you need anything. Love you.

...

Sean drove to the hospital.

The hallway lights were a bit harsh, and the faint smell of disinfectant hung in the air.

Sean carried the thermal flask, his fingertips tightening slightly. He walked with a steady gait, but he couldn’t suppress the apprehension churning in his heart.

The scene of his heated argument with his mother yesterday was still vivid in his mind. He was worried about her health, wondering if she had calmed down yet. At the same time, he knew he was about to face his father’s uncompromising pressure.

Sean stopped in front of the hospital room door. He took a deep breath and pushed it open.

In the bed, his mother, Yvonne Donovan, was propped up against a soft pillow, her face still pale and drawn. When her gaze fell on him, it was filled with a complex, unreadable mix of emotions: resentment, disappointment, and something else...

On the sofa, his father, Simon Sterling, sat ramrod straight with a deeply furrowed brow. He exuded an oppressive, unapproachable aura, his sharp gaze flicking to Sean for just a moment before looking away.

By the window, his aunt, Claire Sterling, was peeling an apple. Seeing him enter, she stood up and greeted him with a smile, her eyes landing on the thermal flask in his hand.

Claire’s eyes lit up. She seized the opportunity to speak, smiling toward the bed. "Yvonne, look. Sean made you chicken soup at home with his own hands. He brought it all this way, and it’s still hot. See? The boy’s always thinking of you."

Yvonne looked at Sean in silence. Her lips moved, but in the end, she refrained from saying anything harsh and simply gave a slight nod.

Simon, however, was unimpressed. He snorted. "Empty gestures."

Claire turned and shot her brother a glare, completely unafraid of him. "That’s enough. Don’t ruin the mood."

Simon reined in his temper. Growing up, he had never said a single harsh word to his younger sister.

"Claire," he sputtered, "whose side are you on, anyway?"

Claire ignored him. She walked over, pulled Sean to the chair by the bed, and urged him to sit closer to Yvonne.

"Sean, you and your mother must be telepathic. A true mother and son. She was just telling me she was craving chicken soup, and here you are with it."

"Quick, pour your mom a bowl. Let her taste your cooking."

Sean knew his aunt was trying to ease the tension, and he was grateful.

He stood, took a step forward, opened the thermal flask, and poured the golden, savory soup into a porcelain bowl. He then respectfully offered it to his mother.

"Mom, I made this soup myself. Please, have some."

Yvonne lowered her gaze to the bowl of soup, a mixture of feelings churning within her.

Claire pressed the spoon into her hand and whispered, "Just have a taste. It’s a token of his affection."

Yvonne seemed to sigh. For Claire’s sake, she said nothing, simply picked up the spoon, and forced down two or three mouthfuls.

The soup was savory and warm, but the knot of resentment in her heart hadn’t loosened. She really had no appetite.

Sean took the initiative to break the silence, his apology to Yvonne sincere.

"Mom, I’m sorry. What I said the other day was harsh, and I hurt you. I apologize."

Yvonne’s eyes instantly reddened. The sense of grievance and sorrow she had been suppressing surged up like a tidal wave.

"So you do remember I’m your mother."

Sean lowered his head, accepting her rebuke. "Mom, I will never forget all you’ve done for me."

The next second, Yvonne blurted out, "Fine, Sean. Since you still acknowledge me as your mother, then let me ask you this: when are you going to break up with Isla Griffith?"