Rebirth: The New Bride Wants A Divorce-Chapter 402: Before and after

Norma laughed softly, the sound light and amused. "Oh, I know. That’s what makes this so... satisfying."

She set her glass aside and stepped closer, heels clicking softly against the floor. There was no warmth in her eyes now—only interest.

"You ran when things got ugly," she continued. "You were abandoned, betrayed, exposed. And suddenly, the woman you once ignored became the only door left open."

Collin met her gaze without flinching. "Call it what you want. I’m here now."

Norma tilted her head, studying him as though he were a chess piece finally moved into position.

"And I didn’t disappoint you," he added, his voice lowering. "I came exactly when you wanted me to."

Her smile widened—slow, dangerous.

"Indeed you did."

A beat of silence passed between them, thick with unspoken negotiations.

"And I hope," Collin said at last, his tone sharp with warning, "that you don’t disappoint me either, Norma."

Something flickered in her eyes at that—approval, perhaps. Or amusement.

"Oh, Collin," she replied calmly. "If there’s one thing you should know by now..."

She leaned in just enough for her words to carry weight.

"I never do."

The air between them shifted, sealing an alliance that promised nothing but chaos—for everyone else.

***

Morning arrived softly, filtered through pale curtains and the hush of a world just waking.

Daniel had been awake for a while.

He lay on his side, propped slightly on one elbow, watching Anna sleep—or rather, watching her pretend to sleep. He knew she hadn’t rested. He had felt the tension in her body all night, the way she’d turned away from him, how her breathing never fully settled into the slow rhythm of deep rest.

Her face, however, looked peaceful now. Strands of her hair had escaped their neat restraint, spilling across the pillow and brushing her cheek. In the gentle light, she looked softer, younger—unguarded in a way she rarely allowed herself to be.

Daniel reached out, almost unconsciously, and tucked a loose strand behind her ear.

Anna stirred.

"Don’t," she murmured sleepily, her voice thick with fatigue. "I’m not ready to be awake."

He smiled faintly. "You never slept."

Her eyes remained closed, but her brows knit together. "That’s not true."

"Anna," he said quietly, "you counted the clock chimes."

She exhaled, defeated.

Daniel’s fingers traced the line of her arm, slow and reassuring. Not demanding. Never demanding. Just there—warm, grounding. His touch lingered at her wrist, where he could feel her pulse, steady but tired.

"You didn’t sleep because you wouldn’t let yourself," he said softly.

She turned onto her back, finally opening her eyes. They were dark with exhaustion, but clear.

"I didn’t want to wake up and realize nothing had changed," she admitted. "That everything is still... complicated."

Daniel shifted closer, his body naturally aligning with hers. His knee brushed against her thigh, his presence solid and comforting. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her temple.

"Things don’t change all at once," he murmured. "Sometimes they change the moment you decide to face them."

Anna looked away toward the window. "I don’t know if I’m ready."

"I know," he said. His thumb brushed lightly over her cheek, following the curve as if memorizing it. "But not being ready hasn’t stopped you before."

She huffed out a quiet, tired laugh. "You make it sound heroic."

"I think it is."

His hand slid down her arm again, slower this time, warmer. The contact was innocent, but intimate—the kind that reminded her she wasn’t alone. That she didn’t have to carry everything by herself.

Anna shifted closer without realizing it, her leg tangling with his. Daniel inhaled softly at the familiar warmth of her body against his. The closeness stirred something low and instinctive in him—not sharp or urgent, just a gentle awakening that came with mornings like this.

He didn’t act on it.

Instead, he let his forehead rest against hers.

"You don’t have to have all the answers when you meet her," he said. "You just have to listen."

"And if she lies?" Anna whispered.

"Then you’ll hear that too."

She searched his face, as if looking for certainty she could borrow. His expression was calm, unwavering.

"You’ll know," he added. "You always do. You just doubt yourself more than you should."

Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. "What if seeing her changes everything?"

Daniel smiled softly. "It already has. You just haven’t admitted it yet."

Silence settled between them again—comfortable this time. The morning light crept higher, illuminating the room, the quiet intimacy of shared breaths and unspoken trust.

Anna closed her eyes briefly, then opened them with resolve.

"Okay," she said.

Daniel lifted a brow. "Okay?"

"I’ll go," she repeated. "I’ll meet her. Today."

Relief flickered across his face, followed by something deeper—pride.

"I’ll be right here," he said, brushing his lips against her forehead. "Before and after."

She nodded, then rested her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. For the first time since the night before, her body relaxed fully.

As Daniel held her, feeling the gentle weight of her trust, he knew this morning—this quiet decision—would change more than either of them realized.

But for now, it was enough that she had chosen to face the truth.

And that she hadn’t done it alone.

***

Meanwhile, Ester sat slumped on the cold chair, exhaustion weighing down every part of her body.

She had spent the night in the cell. Screaming. Pleading. Bargaining with anyone who would listen. By morning, her voice had given out, her throat raw and aching, leaving only silence behind. Her eyes—once sharp with defiance—now stared blankly ahead, stripped of the hope she had clung to for far too long.

The walls felt closer than before. The air heavier.

Fredrick had come.

For a moment—just a fleeting, foolish moment—she had thought his presence meant rescue. Or at least understanding. Instead, he had stood across from her with crossed arms and cold eyes, every word he spoke cutting deeper than the bars ever could.

This was her fault.

That was all he had said. That she had been careless. That she had drawn attention. That she had created yet another problem he now had to clean up.

Not once did he ask if she was alright.

Not once did he consider what this meant for her.

And then he had left, without looking back.

Her daughter hadn’t come. 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂

Ester’s gaze dropped to her trembling hands at the memory. She hadn’t even dared to expect forgiveness—but she had hoped. Hoped for a visit. A glance. Even a single word that told her she hadn’t lost everything.

But the hours passed, and no footsteps stopped outside her cell.

That absence was what broke her.

It stripped away the last fragile thread she had been holding onto, leaving her hollow and exposed. The anger that had once fueled her had burned out, leaving only regret in its wake—sharp, suffocating, relentless.

She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, pressing her face into her hands.

For the first time since this nightmare began, Ester understood something with devastating clarity:

She was alone.

And this time, no one was coming to save her. Until the cell’s door opened and a figure walked in seizing her eyes.