The Ruthless CEO's Revenge Wife-Chapter 195: Self Care Is A Luxury

Logan watched Jean from across the car as their driver smoothly navigated through the city.

She was quiet again. The kind of quiet that didn’t just mean tired, it meant distracted. Wounded in a way she hadn’t said out loud yet.

He waited a moment longer before finally speaking. Anything to grab her attention from whatever she’s stressing about.

"Henry goes to the hospital every night."

Jean blinked, slowly turning to look at him. "To see Emma?"

Logan nodded. "Even when he finishes late. Even when he’s dead tired. He stops by her room. Just sits with her. Talks to her like she’s going to wake up any second."

Jean said nothing. Her fingers curled slightly on her lap.

"He tells the nurse to change her flowers every third day. Brings her favorite hand cream. Says her skin shouldn’t feel dry, coma or not."

Jean’s throat tightened. She hadn’t known that. "That’s... very Henry, though I didn’t know they were close." She murmured.

But Logan didn’t smile.

He looked at her carefully, reading the way her gaze dropped to the window again. The way her jaw set... just a little too tight.

"You haven’t gone to see her," he said gently.

She stiffened.

"I..." She started, then stopped.

He didn’t push. Just waited.

After a long pause, Jean finally whispered, "Because she’s in that bed because of me."

Logan’s brow furrowed. "Jean..."

"No. Don’t say she’s not. If Alex tried to harm Emma then the only reason could be she was attacked because of her loyalty to me. She was covering my tracks, protecting my company, while I... I couldn’t even take her call when she asked for help." Her voice cracked. "I was pretending I could protect anyone. In real, I did nothing."

Silence.

The only sound was the soft hum of the car and the distant noise of traffic outside.

Logan leaned forward, elbows on his knees, facing her fully now.

"She’s not waking up to blame you, Jean."

Jean closed her eyes. "But I will."

Logan exhaled. "Then maybe it’s time to stop carrying that alone."

She didn’t answer but the tear she angrily wiped away spoke for her.

Logan didn’t touch her. He knew she hated being comforted when her walls were cracked wide open.

But he did say one thing before they pulled up to the tower. "You don’t owe her guilt. You owe her presence."

__________________________

The hospital hallway was dim and quiet, just the way Henry liked it.

No more doctors bustling past him with clipboards. No visitors with tear stained cheeks. Just the soft buzz of fluorescent lights, the antiseptic scent clinging to his coat, and the familiar creak of his boots against the tiles.

He glanced at the clock. 9:46 PM. Right on time.

He always came at this hour... after work, after the city had mostly shut its eyes. Emma’s room was always the same, warm but clinical, too still for someone who used to fill a room with her laughter.

Henry slipped inside like he always did.

The nurses didn’t stop him anymore.

Emma lay as she always had... still, fragile, but somehow present. There was life in her, even now. Her chest rose and fell like a slow, steady metronome. Her skin was pale, but not ghostly. Just... waiting.

He walked to the window, pulled back the curtain an inch. Let her breathe in the moonlight.

"Hey," he said softly, placing the small bag of chamomile lotion on the side table. "Got your favorite again. Not the one with the extra lavender... I remember you hated that one."

He sat beside her, adjusting the blanket gently over her legs. "Logan says Jean’s working herself to the bone."

A pause.

"Still hasn’t come by." He sighed. "I think she’s punishing herself. Or maybe... she’s just scared of what she’ll see when she walks through that door."

He rubbed his face, weariness settling into his bones.

That’s when he heard it.

The door creaked open. His brows furrowed as he turned.

And then he saw her.

Jean.

Standing at the doorway like she wasn’t sure if she had the right to be there.

Hair slightly messy from wind. Eyes red... not from crying, but from holding it all in.

Henry stood slowly.

Jean stepped forward, her voice almost caught in her throat. "I didn’t want to come while I felt like a fraud."

Henry stared at her for a long moment, then gently shook his head. "You’re late. Not unwelcome."

That was all she needed.

Jean finally stepped in... slowly, carefully, like she was afraid Emma might vanish the moment she got close.

Henry moved aside, giving her the chair.

She took it, brushing her fingers lightly over Emma’s hand, her own trembling.

"Hey, Em..." she whispered. "It’s me. I’m sorry it took me so long."

Henry didn’t intrude. He just stood by the door now, watching... a silent guardian, no longer alone in his ritual.

Something in the room shifted.

And for the first time since Emma fell into silence... They grieved together.

_________________________

The city outside his penthouse window was quiet, but Logan’s mind wasn’t.

Jean hadn’t returned yet. He knew where she was... the hospital but something about her silence since she’d left unsettled him more than usual.

He pulled out his phone and hit the contact he rarely used for serious things.

Hannah.

She picked up almost instantly. "You’re calling me? At night? This better not be about you needing fashion advice again."

"Funny." Logan leaned against the window frame. "I need to ask you something. About Jean."

Her voice dropped in tone. "Is she okay?"

"That’s what I’m trying to figure out." He rubbed the back of his neck. "How’s she been at the office lately? Like... really?"

Hannah hesitated and Logan didn’t like that.

"She gets in early. Leaves late. Barely talks unless it’s about work."

"Yeah, that’s Jean."

"No, Logan. This is different." Hannah’s voice softened. "Maybe I am over analysing things. Is she having some problem with food? She doesn’t eat. Like... I’ve never seen her eat. I bring coffee sometimes... she thanks me, but barely takes a sip. She stays locked up in that glass office like she’s racing some invisible clock."

Logan’s jaw tensed.

"She used to do this before. When Emma was still here, at least someone dragged her to lunch. But I don’t know if I have that kind of connection with her?"

Hannah paused, shaking her head.

"Now it’s just me. And I’m still figuring things out, so she keeps shielding me. She thinks looking after herself is a luxury. And I think... She’s scared to slow down. Like everything will fall apart if she breathes."