Secretly Married for 4 Years, He Regrets to Tears After the Divorce-Chapter 180: The Closest Place to Her

A faint smell of disinfectant lingered in the VIP hospital room.

Mr. Sawyer was propped up against the headboard. His complexion had improved since he first arrived, but his spirits were a far cry from what they used to be.

The door to the room opened, and Ms. Dawson walked in with her daughter, Stella Sinclair, carrying a fruit basket and nutritional supplements.

Mr. and Mrs. Sawyer were both surprised; they hadn’t expected the mother and daughter to visit.

Ms. Dawson took the initiative to explain. "A friend of mine happens to be at this hospital. She knows about the relationship between our families and saw Mr. Sawyer being taken into the emergency room, so she called me right away."

"Oh, I see." Mrs. Sawyer invited them to sit. "Thank you for coming all this way. You shouldn’t have gone to the trouble."

Ms. Dawson patted Mrs. Sawyer’s hand and pulled her down to sit with her.

"Between our families, there’s no need for such formalities. It’s good that Mr. Sawyer is all right. You should relax, too. Don’t work yourself up."

"Thank you." Mrs. Sawyer was grateful for Ms. Dawson’s kindness, but her heart was heavy with guilt and self-reproach.

"I don’t even know how to explain what happened today. And poor Maya had to suffer because of it. Mr. Sawyer and I have let you and your daughter down."

"Don’t say that. Even if we don’t become in-laws, our families will always be friends."

Ms. Dawson’s understanding gaze slowly turned to Mr. Sawyer on the hospital bed.

"Mr. Sawyer, your health is what’s most important. Don’t be angry. We can take our time figuring out what to do about the children. If Spencer really has someone he loves, we shouldn’t make things difficult for him. You can’t force a horse to drink, and you can’t force love. On the way to the hospital, I had a long talk with Maya. She understands now and is willing to let Spencer be with the one he loves."

Stella Sinclair looked up, her eyes slightly red-rimmed, and forced a sensible smile.

"My mom is right. I’m willing to let go and allow Spencer to be happy. Uncle, Auntie, please don’t make things difficult for him anymore, and don’t let this matter disrupt the peace in your family."

Her voice was soft, laced with a choked sob and a touch of reluctance.

"I’m planning to go abroad so I won’t disturb Spencer’s life at all."

The mother and daughter’s strategy of feigning retreat, combined with Stella Sinclair’s fragile appearance as she held back her grievances, perfectly targeted Mr. Sawyer’s dissatisfaction with his son and his guilt toward the Sinclair family.

He grew agitated at once, saying repeatedly, "What do you mean, ’let him be happy’? How can I break the promise I made to Mr. Sinclair on his deathbed!"

"Mr. Sawyer, I understand your difficult position, but Spencer..." Ms. Dawson sighed, looking troubled.

"We can’t just force him to marry Maya. If we do that, he’ll be unhappy, Maya will be miserable, and we adults won’t feel good about it either."

Mr. Sawyer took a deep breath. "I’ll have a good talk with Spencer later. I’m his father. I’ll convince him to marry Maya willingly."

After saying this, he looked at Stella Sinclair, his gaze both reassuring and firm.

"Good child, don’t overthink things, and there’s no need to go abroad. Uncle will see this through for you. The Sawyer Family will not acknowledge any other daughter-in-law but you."

A flicker of triumph flashed in Ms. Dawson’s eyes, but her face remained worried. "We still don’t want you and Spencer to have a falling out over this, leading to a rift between father and son."

"There will be no rift. It’s not his place to call the shots in this family," Mr. Sawyer said, his tone decisive. Agitated, he coughed a few more times.

Just then, outside the hospital room door, a tall figure stood frozen in place.

Spencer Sawyer had gone downstairs for some fresh air. He had returned, wanting to enter the room for an honest talk with his father, but he never expected to overhear such a conversation.

Listening to his father’s unquestionable decision and the "sensible" retreat of Stella Sinclair and her mother, he felt a profound exhaustion and powerlessness spread from the bottom of his heart through his entire body.

He turned away in anguish and left the hospital in silence, shutting out their voices completely.

His car drifted aimlessly through the bustling city. When he finally came to his senses, he realized he had unconsciously driven to the building where the postnatal care center was.

The afterglow of the sunset dyed the building’s glass curtain wall a warm gold.

He sat in the driver’s seat, looking up at that window. Thinking of the person inside, the surging irritation in his heart gradually subsided.

At that moment, Spencer Sawyer longed to hear Wren Sutton’s voice—the voice that could offer him a brief escape from his suffocating constraints.

He took out his phone, found Wren Sutton’s number, and dialed.

A cold, mechanical voice came from the receiver: "We’re sorry, the number you have dialed is currently switched off."

A clear sense of disappointment washed over him. Spencer Sawyer leaned back against the seat. He didn’t leave, just sat there quietly, his gaze fixed on the window.

This was the closest he could get to her right now.

Time passed.

The sky gradually darkened. The inside of the car was dim, lit only by the faint glow of the dashboard, which illuminated the sharp contours of Spencer Sawyer’s profile. His eyes were filled with exhaustion and confusion.

...

Upstairs, Wren Sutton got up to stretch and walked to the window.

She glanced down casually and saw a familiar car. It looked like her senior’s, but she wasn’t sure.

...

Wren Sutton hesitated for a moment, then a strange impulse prompted her to pick up her fully charged phone.

She turned it on. The screen lit up, and she dialed Spencer Sawyer’s number.

He picked up instantly, so quickly it was as if he had been waiting specifically for this call.

"Hello." A man’s deep voice came from the other end, against the distinct quiet of a car’s interior.

Wren Sutton clutched her phone and asked softly, her voice tinged with surprise and confusion, "Senior, are you downstairs from the postnatal care center?"

Spencer Sawyer looked up and saw Wren Sutton standing at the window. He immediately got out of the car.

"I’m downstairs," he replied.

Wren Sutton saw him too, her feelings complicated. "When did you get here?"

"Just a little while ago," he said. "I wanted to come up and see you and the baby, but I was afraid I’d disturb your rest at this hour."

"The baby’s asleep, but I’m not," she replied.

"You should get some rest then," he said. "You shouldn’t overexert yourself during your confinement."

The two of them, separated by the windowpane, one upstairs and one down, looked at each other. Neither of them hung up the phone.

The atmosphere was delicate. Wren Sutton felt that Spencer Sawyer was hiding something.

"Senior, is something wrong?" she asked. "If you need my help, just say the word."

A wave of warmth enveloped Spencer Sawyer’s heart. "You’d be willing to help me?"

Wren Sutton’s tone was sincere. "If it’s within my power, of course I’ll help. So, what is it?"