Forced Marriage: My Wife, My Redemption-Chapter 164: The Lucky one

Davis and Jessica spent a long time in the car, arguing about everything they had bottled up inside. By the time they finally calmed down and reached an understanding, several minutes had already passed.

Though she had been burning with anger, but after listening to Davis and thinking things through, she began to relax. It wasn’t just about George or Desmond anymore. The more she thought about it, the more everything started to come together.

Davis had always believed that Desmond wasn’t acting out of goodwill when he pushed for a bride on his behalf. He had always suspected some hidden motive. But now, sitting beside Jessica, Davis felt something he hadn’t expected—gratitude that he was plotted against.

For the first time in Davis life, he was grateful to the person that plotted against him because If Desmond hadn’t made his move early, Davis might never have met Jessica. He might never have had the chance to hold this beautiful, strong woman in his arms. He might never have found the hope to get back on his feet again.

No matter how it happened, he was the lucky one. He knew it and would always be open to acknowledge that.

Still, looking at Jessica’s face filled with quiet anger, he fell into deep thought. After a while, his voice broke the silence, soft and uncertain.

"Do you... do you think I’m a burden?"

Jessica’s head turned sharply to him. "What?" she asked, shocked. Her heart skipped a beat. The way he spoke... something felt off. Was he blaming himself?

Davis glanced down at his hands. "Aren’t you mad that George and Desmond tricked you into marrying me? Doesn’t it make you hate this marriage... and maybe even me?"

Jessica stared at him, her eyes narrowing slightly as her emotions stirred again. "Yes. I’m angry," she admitted, not holding back. "And I have every right to be. They used me. They used us."

He nodded slowly, then turned to face her fully. "And what about us now?"

The question caught her off guard. She had expected a lot of things, but not that. She blinked, thinking. "What about us?" she repeated, her voice softer this time.

"I mean... do you regret it? Being with me? Do you wish this never happened?"

Jessica let out a long breath and looked out the window. She didn’t know how to explain what she was feeling. She didn’t regret him, but she hated how it all started. Still, she knew one thing for sure.

"I don’t mean it like that," she finally said. "I’m not angry at you. I’m angry at the lies. At the manipulation. At my father... and Desmond. But not at you."

"Then how do you mean it?" Davis asked gently, reaching for her hand.

Jessica didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her heart was too full of things she hadn’t sorted out yet. She looked down at their joined hands, wondering when things had gotten so complicated.

Davis signaled the driver to return, and the car began moving again. Jessica turned away, her expression unreadable.

"Take us somewhere," she muttered, not saying where.

The driver nodded and began driving. The atmosphere inside the car was quiet and heavy. Davis didn’t ask where they were going. He wanted to ask but is more scared of making her unhappy and emotional. Looking at how serious and somber her face had turned.

As they passed a small flower shop, Jessica tapped the window.

"Stop here," she said.

The car pulled over, and Jessica stepped out. She wore her sunglasses and her hair obscuring some part of her face in a freefall concealing her face. Inside the shop, she quietly scanned through the flower arranged and after consideration she picked out a white lily. When she returned to the car, Davis opened the door for her silently.

As she sat down, clutching the flower tightly in her hand, her voice came low and firm. "Sweet Memories Cemetery," she said.

Davis didn’t say anything, though he felt a dull ache in his chest. He had a feeling that was where they were going.

Jessica sat stiffly, holding the lily like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. Her fingers were trembling slightly. Davis noticed, but he didn’t speak.

It is now clear why she bought the flower and the location they are going.

The ride continued in silence. Jessica stared out the window, her thoughts spiraling. It felt like she was right back in the hospital room where her mother had passed away several years ago.

She had been there, holding her mother’s hand, listening to her final words. Her mother had spoken softly, telling her how proud she was, how much she loved her, and what kind of woman she wanted Jessica to become.

"You’re strong," her mother had said. "You’re my lioness. Don’t ever let them break you."

She had told Jessica not to cry. That she wasn’t a crybaby. That she would watch her become a great doctor, a herbalist, a woman who changes lives. She had promised to be there when Jessica had children of her own.

But all those promises died in that room.

Jessica gripped the flower tighter, her knuckles pale. The tears she hadn’t noticed before began to fall, slowly streaking down her cheeks. She didn’t bother wiping them away.

Davis sat beside her, heart aching. He wanted to speak, to hold her, to take away even a little of her pain—but he knew this wasn’t the time for words. Jessica wasn’t really here, not right now. She was lost in memory, walking through pain only she understood.

He moved slowly and pulled her gently into his arms. She didn’t resist. Her head rested against his chest, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

Davis held her tightly, one hand rubbing her back in quiet support. He didn’t say anything. There were no words strong enough for this kind of grief. He just held her.

And that was enough.

Jessica sat there for a long while, her tears soaking into his shirt. Her breathing was uneven, her body tense, but being in his arms brought some comfort. Some warmth.

It reminded her that even though her mother was gone, she wasn’t alone anymore.

Davis leaned his chin gently on her head, closing his eyes.

"Your mom would be proud of you," he whispered eventually. "She raised a fighter."

Jessica didn’t reply. But the grip she had on his shirt tightened just a little.

When they finally reached the cemetery, the car rolled to a soft stop. Jessica wiped her eyes and stepped out slowly. She had wanted to let Davis wait in the car but then he had insisted to follow. Jessica promptly fished out his wheelchair from the car trunk.

With skilled movement, she helped him into the wheelchair and slowly she wheeled him up the stony path.