Rebirth: The New Bride Wants A Divorce-Chapter 519: I will improve

"Just because you helped me does not mean I will change my feelings toward you."

Marcus’s voice broke the silence.

Kathrine stilled.

She had thought he was still unconscious, but now his eyes were open, watching her with the same cold detachment he had always carried. His tone held no warmth, no gratitude. Only distance.

Kathrine met his gaze calmly.

"You do not have to," she replied. "I did not help you because I wanted anything from you. I simply did what needed to be done."

Her voice was steady, neutral. Not harsh, but not soft either.

Because the truth was simple.

When she had seen him collapse, her body had reacted before her mind could interfere. Whatever Marcus was to Ethan, whatever he was to her, in that moment he had simply been a man in need of help.

And she had helped him.

Not for approval.

Not for forgiveness.

But because it was the right thing to do.

Marcus watched her in silence.

His expression did not change, but his eyes lingered on her longer than before. He studied her as if trying to understand something he had never noticed.

Or perhaps something he had never allowed himself to see.

A question formed in his mind, one he had no intention of asking. And yet it remained there, heavy and persistent.

Had she told Ethan?

Did Ethan know he was here?

He was not sure why the thought unsettled him.

Before he could decide whether to ask, Kathrine spoke again.

"Now that you are awake and in good hands, I do not think my presence is needed here anymore."

Her words were polite, distant.

Marcus watched as she turned to leave, her hand reaching for the door.

Something inside him stirred.

A hesitation he was not accustomed to feeling.

"Ethan..." he called out.

Her steps stopped.

She turned back to face him.

His throat felt dry.

"Does he know I am... in the hospital?"

The question came out quieter than he intended.

For the first time, the authority in his voice was absent.

His eyes searched her face, waiting.

Kathrine held his gaze for a moment before slowly shaking her head.

"No."

Marcus did not realize he had been holding his breath until he released it.

Relief.

Or perhaps disappointment.

He could not tell.

"Do you want him to know?" she asked gently.

The question caught him off guard.

Marcus looked away briefly, his jaw tightening.

Did he want Ethan to know?

Did he want his son to see him like this?

Weak.

Fragile.

Powerless.

He hated the thought.

He hated the possibility of Ethan standing here not as a son, but as someone who no longer belonged to him.

And yet, beneath that pride, beneath that wounded authority, there was something else.

Something quieter.

Something he refused to name.

"No," he said finally.

The word was firm, final.

Kathrine nodded once.

She did not question him.

"Then so be it," she replied.

There was no judgment in her voice.

Only acceptance.

She turned again, opening the door and stepping out without another word.

This time, she did not look back.

The door closed softly behind her.

Marcus stared at it long after she was gone.

The room felt colder now.

Emptier.

He had gotten what he wanted.

Ethan did not know.

Ethan would not come.

Ethan would not see him like this.

And yet, the silence that followed did not feel like victory.

It felt like loss.

Minutes passed.

Marcus remained still, his eyes fixed on the closed door as if expecting it to open again.

But it did not.

Instead, after some time, there was another sound.

The door opened once more.

Marcus’s gaze shifted slowly toward the door, his expression hardening instinctively as the fragile thoughts lingering in his mind were forced back into silence.

"Boss, Doctor Franklin has arrived."

It was his assistant.

The man stood respectfully near the entrance, his posture straight, his voice calm, as if nothing unusual had happened. As if Marcus had not collapsed just hours ago.

Marcus blinked once, regaining the composure that had defined him his entire life.

"Send him in," he said.

His tone was steady. Controlled. But the uneasiness in his chest remained, quiet and persistent, refusing to be buried so easily.

For the first time in years, he had felt powerless.

And he hated it.

***

[Rosewood House]

"I never knew I had such a creative side."

Daniel stood proudly in front of the counter, rubbing his chin as his eyes admired the cake with complete satisfaction. His posture radiated accomplishment, as if he had just created something extraordinary.

Anna followed his gaze. Her expression changed instantly.

Her brows furrowed, her lips parting in disbelief.

"Since when does a cake look like an air balloon?" she snapped, her voice filled with accusation. "Daniel, are you trying to tell me I am overweight when I have already lost a few pounds?"

Daniel froze. His head turned toward her, confusion evident in his eyes.

"What?"

Anna pointed at the cake.

It was large. Round. Covered in smooth white cream. And right at the center was a figure Daniel had carefully drawn using frosting.

Her figure.

She had seen him decorating it earlier, his focus unwavering, his movements careful. She had known he was trying to draw her. She had even found it sweet.

Until now.

"You made me look like this," she said, her arms crossing protectively over her chest.

Daniel looked back at the cake, trying to understand what had upset her so suddenly.

"You do not like it?" he asked quietly.

Anna stared at him, her frustration growing.

"Like it?" she repeated. "It looks like a balloon."

Daniel frowned slightly. He had not seen it that way. He had seen her. Not as measurements or as numbers on a scale. But as the woman he loved.

He turned back to her, studying her expression carefully. He noticed the insecurity behind her anger. The vulnerability she was trying to hide.

Daniel stepped closer.

"I was not mocking you," he said softly.

Anna arched her brow as if giving him a hard look.

He knew why this mattered to her. She had been working hard to lose weight for her next film. She wanted to fit the character she had chosen, wanted to reshape herself to meet expectations she believed she had to fulfill.

But he had never seen her as someone who needed to change. To him, her curves were not flaws. They were part of her.

Part of the woman who had filled his life with meaning. "You are beautiful," he said simply.

Anna looked at him, startled by the certainty in his voice.

"I drew you," he continued. "Not to make fun of you. But because it is your birthday. Because I wanted this cake to belong to you."

Anna did not know whether she should laugh or cry.

Daniel stood there, looking at the cake with the kind of pride only a child could have after creating something with his own hands. His eyes held quiet excitement, as if he was waiting for her approval, as if her reaction meant everything to him.

It softened something inside her.

For a man the world feared and respected, for a man who carried himself with such precision and control, he looked completely different right now.

Unguarded.

Hopeful.

Human.

And it was all for her.

Her lips trembled slightly as she tried to hold back a smile.

Drawing, however... she had to admit, he was terrible at it.

Daniel might have been a perfect businessman. His decisions were sharp, his instincts flawless, and his ability to build empires unmatched. He could command rooms without raising his voice, could solve problems others could not even comprehend.

But art?

That was not his strength.

Not even close.

The figure on the cake was uneven, the lines awkward, the proportions far from accurate. Anyone else might have laughed at it without hesitation.

But Anna could not.

Because she knew the effort behind it.

Because she knew he had done it himself, without asking for help, without trying to make it perfect through someone else’s hands.

He had wanted it to come from him.

She looked at him again and found him watching her, his expression quieter now, as if he was unsure whether he had done something right or wrong.

And in that moment, she realized something that made her chest tighten.

Daniel was not trying to impress the world.

He was trying to make her happy.

Slowly, she stepped closer to the counter, her fingers brushing lightly against the edge of the cake.

"It is not perfect," she said honestly.

Daniel’s expression faltered slightly.

"But..." she added, lifting her gaze to meet his, her eyes softening, "I like it."

Relief flickered across his face.

A small smile followed.

Anna shook her head gently, a quiet laugh escaping her.

"You really need more practice," she teased softly.

Daniel raised an eyebrow.

"I will improve," he replied calmly.

She believed him.

Not because he was good at it.

But because he was willing to try.

For her.

"Now come let’s cut it"

Anna forced a smile, though deep down she couldn’t ignore the fact that it was her he had drawn on it.