Rebirth: The New Bride Wants A Divorce-Chapter 419: I made a mistake by asking her

[Ethan’s Condo]

"Why can’t I recall that man’s face?"

Kathrine pressed her fingers against her temples, her voice low but strained. "I clearly remember saying he was the one who took me into that room. I said it. I know I did."

The harder she tried to focus, the worse it became.

Her head throbbed painfully, a sharp pressure building behind her eyes as if her mind itself were pushing back. Every time she reached for the memory, it slipped through her grasp like smoke. Not blank—never blank—but blurred, distorted, unfinished.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

A corridor. A door. A hand gripping her wrist. But the face?

Nothing.

"No... no, this doesn’t make sense," she whispered hoarsely. "I heard him. I know I heard him."

Kathrine’s breath hitched as Jason’s words echoed in her mind, calm but firm, spoken during the session that had ended far too abruptly.

’Forcing memory retrieval can sometimes turn deadly, Kathrine. Your vitals aren’t stable. We need to stop.’

She remembered the way his expression had changed—professional concern replacing curiosity—the moment her pulse spiked and she clutched her head in pain. He had stopped immediately, grounding her, talking her through slow breaths before finally handing her the notes.

Read these later, he’d said. But don’t push yourself alone.

She looked down at those same notes now, resting in her trembling hands.

They were neat. Clinical. Too clean for something that felt so violently messy inside her.

1. Subject recalls event involving abduction.

2. Perpetrator present, physical contact confirmed.

3. Facial recognition—blocked.

4. Possible memory suppression or trauma-induced dissociation.

Kathrine’s fingers curled around the pages.

’Memory suppression.’ The words sat heavily in her chest.

The more she read, the clearer it became—this wasn’t simple forgetfulness. This wasn’t stress or imagination. A part of her life had been erased, deliberately or otherwise, and she had been living without knowing it.

That realization made her stomach churn.

"How can you lose part of your life and not even know it’s gone?" she murmured to the empty room. "How do you just... keep going?"

Her gaze drifted unfocused toward the window, city lights blurring together. She felt unmoored, like someone had shifted the ground beneath her feet without warning.

She tried again. The room. Dim lighting. Her own voice, raised in protest.

"Arh!" She gasped, dropping the notes as pain lanced through her skull.

"Kathrine!"

Ethan was beside her instantly.

She hadn’t even heard him get up from the chair. One moment she was alone with her thoughts, the next his hands were gripping her shoulders, steadying her as she swayed.

"Hey—stop," he said sharply but gently, lowering her onto the couch. "Don’t do that. Don’t push."

"I can’t remember," she whispered, tears pricking her eyes in frustration. "It’s right there, Ethan. I know it is. Why can’t I see him?"

Ethan crouched in front of her, his expression tight with concern. He reached out hesitantly, then brushed her hair back from her face.

"You’re hurting yourself," he said quietly. "Jason warned you about this."

"That’s what scares me," she replied, voice trembling. "If remembering is dangerous... then what happened to me must’ve been worse."

The words hung between them.

Ethan inhaled slowly, like he was bracing himself.

"Kathrine," he said, "listen to me. You don’t have to remember everything right now. Or all at once. What matters is that you’re safe now."

She shook her head weakly. "But what if I’m not? What if something like this happens again and I don’t even recognize the danger because I don’t remember the last time?"

Her hands clenched in her lap.

Ethan’s jaw tightened. There was a brief pause. A hesitation so subtle she might’ve missed it—if she hadn’t been hyper-aware of everything in that moment.

Then he spoke. "There’s something I should tell you," he said.

Kathrine looked up at him, but he didn’t meet her eyes immediately.

"What?" Her chest tightened while waiting for him to speak.

Ethan exhaled and finally looked at her, his gaze conflicted. "I met Anna today" he began slowly, "I asked her something."

Kathrine stilled. "...About me?"

"Yes."

Her brows drew together. "What did you ask her?"

Ethan hesitated again—just a fraction of a second too long.

"I asked her," he said carefully, "whether you had ever been abducted."

The room seemed to tilt.

"What?" Kathrine whispered.

Ethan immediately held up his hands. "Wait—before you react—"

"Why would you ask her that?" she cut in, her voice sharp with disbelief. "Ethan, that’s not a normal question to ask someone."

"I know," he said quickly. "I know it’s not. And I didn’t ask lightly."

Her pulse quickened. "Then why?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable now. "Because she seemed to be worried about you and kept asking me where you were"

Kathrine stared at him, stunned. She knew she had been keeping things from Anna for sometime, but letting her know what she was upto was something she didn’t wanted her to know yet.

"And Anna?" she asked slowly. "What did she say?"

Ethan’s eyes flickered away.

"She declined," Ethan said quietly, his face grim as he lowered his gaze.

Kathrine stiffened.

"Yes. Of course she did," she replied immediately—too immediately. "Because Roseline wasn’t even married to my dad when I was seven. Anna came a few months later. After they registered their marriage."

The words spilled out of her mouth in a rush, unfiltered and unguarded, as if her mind had decided before she could stop it that the truth no longer deserved to stay hidden.

The moment the silence hit, Kathrine froze.

Her breath caught.

She stared at Ethan, realization dawning a second too late that she had said far more than she intended to.

Ethan’s head snapped up.

"...What?" he asked slowly.

Kathrine’s lips parted, but no sound came out.

"You mean," he continued, voice carefully measured, "Anna is not your sister?"

The words seemed to echo in the room.

Kathrine swallowed hard.

"She isn’t," she admitted quietly.

Ethan leaned back slightly, shock rippling through him—not loud, not dramatic, but deep and unsettling. He dragged a hand down his face as fragments of past observations suddenly aligned into a picture he hadn’t known he was missing.

Anna was never really introduced. Never shared the family spotlight. Never spoke publicly as Hugo Bennett’s daughter.

And Hugo...

He had always introduced Kathrine with pride. While Anna remained in the shadows.

Ethan let out a slow, uneven breath.

"Then... does that mean I made a mistake by asking her?" he said quietly.

He lifted his head and looked at Kathrine, the realization settling in all at once.