The Wife You Buried Is Back from Hell novel Chapter 513

It was the first time Gian had seen Danielle look so disheveled and worn out.

Danielle couldn’t leave her daughter’s side, her worry for Niki anchoring her to the little girl’s bedside. Every time Niki spiked a fever, Danielle would force herself to stay alert, terrified that any small oversight might end in disaster. Her daughter was her entire world; there were consequences she simply couldn’t bear.

It felt as if fate itself was steering her onto a path she couldn’t see. Something unseen and cold seemed to reach for her out of the darkness, sending a chill down her spine.

Burying her face in her hands, Danielle felt lost, unable to make sense of how things had come to this. She listened to Gian’s words and shook her head slightly.

“I’ll be fine. You don’t have to worry about me.” Her voice was hoarse, her whole appearance haggard and worn.

Gian watched her for a moment before gently gripping her shoulder. “The police are already looking into it. Sooner or later, the truth will come out. You don’t need to worry so much.”

“These days, there are cameras everywhere. And besides, those people have already been arrested. They’ll get to the bottom of this.”

His voice was gentle, reassuring. If she needed someone to lean on, he wanted her to know he was there.

But Danielle’s mind was a tangled mess. The events of the day replayed on a loop, each memory fresh and raw. She was still shaken.

Kirsten looked at Danielle, her heart aching for her friend. She stepped forward and wrapped Danielle in a tight embrace, her familiar scent—jasmine and warmth—enveloping them both.

As Kirsten held her, she was struck by how thin Danielle felt in her arms—like she was nothing but bones. The realization hit Kirsten hard, tightening her chest with worry.

Even now, Danielle’s body trembled. Kirsten couldn’t begin to imagine what Danielle had just been through. She rubbed Danielle’s back in slow, soothing circles, the warmth from her hand seeping through Danielle’s sweat-dampened shirt, coaxing some of the tension from her rigid spine.

Kirsten’s breath tickled Danielle’s ear as she spoke, every word steady and unwavering—a shelter in the storm.

“I brought you some fresh clothes, just the kind you like. They’re soft and comfortable.” Her voice was gentle. “The hospital’s air conditioning is pretty strong. Don’t catch a chill.”

The careful attention to detail, the thoughtfulness in every gesture—Danielle felt her eyes sting with tears. She remembered years ago, when she’d first started her career—lost and overwhelmed—and it was Kirsten who had quietly handed her a warm mug of ginger tea. With a friend like this, what more could anyone ask for?

“Don’t overthink it,” Kirsten murmured. “We’re all here. You’re not alone.”

“Go get cleaned up. You’ll feel better. I’ll stay with you, look after Niki and your mom.”

“She’s been through a fright, too. She shouldn’t be left alone right now.”

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