The Wife You Buried Is Back from Hell novel Chapter 753

She took a deep breath, carefully tucking the blanket around Niki before tiptoeing out of the room and quietly closing the door behind her.

The hallway was silent, save for the faint murmur of Rebecca’s voice drifting up from downstairs.

Leaning against the cold wall for a moment, she tried to steady herself. Her thoughts were a tangled mess, impossible to unravel.

Slowly, she made her way down the stairs. The living room was empty; Rebecca’s voice came from a room at the end of the hall.

She hesitated but eventually walked over, stopping just outside the door.

It hadn’t been fully closed—left open by a crack.

Through the gap, she saw the light inside. Rebecca, with her back to the door, was tending to Alexander’s wounds.

His suit jacket had been tossed aside, and the sleeve of his bloodstained shirt was cut open, revealing a vicious gash running from his shoulder to his elbow. The torn skin and flesh were raw and angry, the sight enough to make her stomach twist.

“I’ll wrap it for now. The doctor’s coming first thing in the morning to take another look.”

Rebecca’s voice was cold as ice. “Alexander, are you out of your mind? I should’ve known you calling me here in the middle of the night meant trouble. You know things have been tense lately—”

Alexander grunted, a low sound of pain, but didn’t say a word.

“You really think this will make Danielle forgive you?” Rebecca’s voice rose, sharp with frustration. “Let me tell you, that’s not going to happen. What happened back then can’t just be erased by what you’re doing now! You’re pushing her—and you’re pushing yourself.”

“Rebecca,” Alexander’s voice finally came, weak but startlingly clear, “this isn’t about her forgiveness.”

“How can it not be?” Rebecca let out a bitter laugh. “You think I don’t see what you’re doing? You’re trying to atone, hoping she’ll come back to you if you punish yourself like this.”

She paused, her voice trembling with anger. “But look at you! Are you planning to drag everyone down with you?”

Danielle instinctively stepped back, her heel hitting the wall with a soft thud.

The voices inside fell abruptly silent.

Danielle nodded. She moved to the bed, pulled up a chair, and sat down. Her gaze landed on his arm, thickly wrapped in gauze, with blood still seeping through at the edges. “Does it hurt?”

Alexander managed a faint smile, worn and unconvincing. “I’ll live.”

Danielle didn’t reply.

She looked at him—the exhaustion in his eyes, the ashen cast of his lips.

She couldn’t help but remember her old conversation with Rebecca.

He has depression.

How could someone like him be touched by something like that?

“You…” She opened her mouth, wanting to ask, but the words caught in her throat. She didn’t even know where to begin.