Rebirth: The New Bride Wants A Divorce-Chapter 315: Quiet is rare

Ethan’s heart nearly leapt into his mouth when Kathrine suddenly jumped out of the car. For a split second, panic gripped him. But the moment he realized where she was heading, a slow breath escaped his lips.

"This woman..." he started, then stopped, a chuckle slipping out before he could help it.

Without wasting another second, Ethan unbuckled his seatbelt and followed her into the park. The same park where they had met before.

"You are unpredictable at times, Miss Bennett," he said as he stopped in front of a swing where Kathrine had already claimed her spot, swinging back and forth like a child experiencing it for the very first time.

"What’s the point of being predictable?" she replied brightly. "Wouldn’t that be boring? Life needs to be thrilling, Mr. Helmsworth."

Her smile widened as she pumped her legs, the wind threading through her hair. Ethan watched her for a moment, an unguarded smile forming on his lips. There was something strangely endearing about the way she spoke about life, as if danger and joy could exist side by side.

And perhaps they did.

Her life was anything but simple, shadows always lurking in the background. Yet here she was, carefree, laughing softly as she enjoyed something so ordinary.

"Luckily there aren’t many people around," Ethan muttered. "Otherwise they’d think you lost your mind, playing on a children’s swing."

Kathrine laughed. "Let them."

Then she glanced at him and added, "You should wear a mask, Ethan. People might recognize you."

He ignored the warning and stepped closer instead. "No need. I want to be carefree for once."

As she swung back toward him, Ethan reached out and gave the swing a gentle push. Kathrine gasped in surprise, then relaxed, her laughter filling the air as she let herself glide higher.

Her smile slowly softened.

Once, when she had come to this park, she had only watched from a distance. She remembered standing quietly, observing children running freely, their parents cheering them on, encouraging them to laugh louder and play harder.

Her childhood had been different.

She had been sick for as long as she could remember. Hugo’s constant worry, though born of love, had wrapped her life in invisible boundaries. Running, falling, playing without caution, those had always been things meant for other children.

Now, as the swing carried her back and forth, Kathrine closed her eyes for a brief moment, savoring the feeling.

For once, she was not watching from the sidelines.

Kathrine slowed the swing with her feet and finally hopped off, landing a little clumsily. She laughed at herself, brushing imaginary dust from her dress.

"I feel ridiculous," she said, still smiling. "I don’t remember the last time I did something like this."

Ethan crossed his arms, watching her. "You don’t look ridiculous," he replied. "You look... normal."

She blinked at him. "Normal?"

"In a good way," he added quickly. "Like someone who’s not constantly being watched or protected or told what they can and can’t do."

Kathrine tilted her head, considering his words. "That’s rare for me," she admitted. "I’ve spent most of my life being careful. Even enjoying things came with rules."

They started walking slowly through the park, their steps unhurried. The silence between them was comfortable, broken only by the crunch of gravel under their shoes.

"So," Ethan said after a moment, "what would you do if no one was hovering over you?"

Kathrine smiled thoughtfully. "Travel. Get lost in places where no one knows my name. Do impulsive things." She glanced at him. "Like jumping out of a car for no reason."

He chuckled. "I had a minor heart attack back there."

"Worth it," she said brightly.

They stopped near a small fountain, the water shimmering under the afternoon light. Kathrine leaned forward, watching it for a moment before speaking again.

"You know," she said quietly, "people see me and assume my life is perfect. They don’t realize how lonely it can get."

Ethan looked at her then, really looked at her. "You’re not alone right now," he said, gently.

The words weren’t dramatic, but they landed heavily.

Kathrine straightened, suddenly aware of how close he was standing. Not too close. Just close enough. Close enough for her to feel the warmth of him, for the moment to shift into something softer, more intimate.

She laughed nervously. "You say things like that so casually."

"That’s because I mean them casually," he replied. "No expectations. No pressure."

Their eyes met, and for a second the world narrowed to just the two of them, the park fading into the background.

Then a breeze passed between them, lifting her hair into her face.

Ethan reached out without thinking, gently moving it aside. His hand lingered for half a second too long before he pulled back.

"Sorry," he said quietly.

Kathrine didn’t move. Her smile was softer now, thoughtful. "It’s okay," she replied.

"Even I never had the freedom to be this free," Ethan said quietly as he turned, and they resumed walking side by side until they found an empty bench tucked beneath the shade of a tree.

They sat down, the moment unhurried.

Kathrine watched him from the corner of her eye as he settled in, noticing the way his posture relaxed now that he wasn’t trying to be anything more than himself. Ethan draped one arm along the backrest of the bench, casual, while one ankle rested over his knee, his foot swaying gently as if he had nowhere else he needed to be.

"For someone who looks like he has it all," Kathrine said softly, "you don’t sound very convinced."

Ethan let out a faint breath, almost a laugh. "People confuse visibility with freedom," he replied. "Being seen all the time doesn’t mean you get to live the way you want."

Kathrine nodded slowly, understanding more than she let on. "I think that’s why this feels nice," she said. "No expectations. Just... quiet."

Ethan glanced at her then, his expression open, unguarded. "Yeah," he agreed. "Quiet is rare."

They sat like that for a while, sharing the calm, the space between them comfortable but charged, as if something unspoken hovered in the air, waiting for the right moment to surface.