Rebirth: The New Bride Wants A Divorce-Chapter 482: When has anyone thought about her?

"Your coffee."

Daniel stepped onto the balcony, the sliding glass door closing softly behind him. The city lights stretched endlessly below, glittering in contrast to the heaviness that had followed them home.

Anna stood near the railing, arms folded loosely, her gaze fixed somewhere far beyond the skyline. She hadn’t changed out of her silence since they left the venue.

He held the cup out to her.

She took it without looking at him. "Thanks."

The steam curled between them, warm against the cool night air.

After Henry had delivered the news at the ballroom, Daniel had expected Anna to react immediately—to rush out, to demand details, to call someone.

Instead, she had gone still.

Calm.

Too calm.

She had instructed Henry to inform Kathrine. Her voice had been steady, almost detached. Then she had walked out of the venue as though nothing had cracked inside her.

Daniel hadn’t questioned her there.

He knew her well enough to recognize when silence wasn’t peace—but armor.

They had come home. Freshened up. Changed.

And now she stood here, staring at the city like it owed her answers.

"I made it strong," he said quietly. "The way you prefer."

She nodded faintly and took a sip.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then she exhaled softly.

"I hope this isn’t one of their schemes to trap me," she muttered, her tone low but edged.

Daniel’s jaw tightened slightly.

That was where her mind had gone.

Not to fear.

Not to grief.

To calculation.

"They wouldn’t fake something like this," he replied evenly.

"You don’t know that," she shot back, though her voice lacked real force. "Every time I let my guard down around them, it costs me."

Her fingers tightened subtly around the cup.

The memory of past manipulations wasn’t something she could just erase. Accusations. Emotional pressure. Being used when convenient and discarded when not.

"I won’t be cornered into guilt again," she added more quietly.

Daniel stepped closer, but not too close. Close enough that she could feel him there without feeling crowded.

"Anna."

She didn’t look at him.

"He had a heart attack," he said gently.

Her jaw clenched.

"And?" she asked, finally turning to face him. "Does that erase everything?"

There it was.

Not indifference.

Hurt.

Years of it.

Daniel held her gaze. "No. It doesn’t."

The city breeze lifted a strand of her hair across her face. He reached out instinctively and brushed it back, his touch careful.

"But pretending you don’t feel anything won’t protect you either."

Her composure faltered for a fraction of a second.

"I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel," she admitted softly. "I thought if something like this ever happened, I’d feel... relief. Or nothing."

Her voice dipped lower.

"But I don’t feel nothing."

The confession lingered between them.

Daniel didn’t rush to respond.

He simply rested his hands lightly at her waist, grounding her.

"You don’t have to decide tonight," he said. "You don’t have to go running to the hospital. And you don’t have to prove you don’t care."

She studied him carefully.

"You’re not judging me?"

"For what?" he asked quietly. "For protecting yourself?"

Her eyes glistened slightly under the city lights, though no tears fell.

"I just don’t want to be pulled back into that house," she whispered.

"You won’t be," he assured her.

The balcony fell silent again, the distant hum of traffic below the only sound accompanying them.

Anna took another slow sip of her coffee.

And this time, when she leaned slightly into him, it wasn’t out of performance.

It was because for once—

She didn’t want to stand alone with her thoughts while her phone continued to buzz silently on the side table relentlessly.

***

[Hospital]

"Why isn’t she answering my calls?" Roseline hissed, staring at her phone as if sheer will could force it to ring. "Is she going to pretend we don’t exist now?"

Her thumb hovered over Anna’s name again.

Call.

End.

Call again.

The silence on the other end felt louder each time.

"You still don’t understand, do you?"

Roseline froze.

She slowly lifted her head to find Kathrine standing a few feet away. There was no anger in her expression. No hysteria.

Just calm.

And that calm unsettled Roseline more than shouting ever could.

"W-what?" Roseline stammered, straightening defensively. "What are you implying?"

Kathrine stepped closer, her heels quiet against the hospital floor.

"Anna isn’t coming," she said evenly.

The words weren’t loud.

They didn’t need to be.

"If she wanted to, she would’ve been here already."

Roseline’s lips parted, but no immediate argument formed.

"After everything she found out," Kathrine continued, her gaze unwavering, "after knowing the truth about both of you... she’s better off staying away."

The bluntness struck like a slap.

Roseline’s eyes flared. "Better off?" she repeated sharply. "We are her parents."

The word felt heavier tonight.

"She can’t just abandon us when we need her," Roseline went on, her voice rising despite the sterile quiet of the corridor. "Hugo is fighting for his life in there. She doesn’t get to decide she’s alone now. We never permitted that."

The disdain in her tone was unmistakable—an old authority trying to reassert itself.

Kathrine’s expression hardened slightly.

"That’s exactly the problem, Mom," she replied. "You think it’s something you permit."

Roseline faltered.

"You still think she needs your approval to walk away."

The hallway felt colder.

"Then unfortunately," Kathrine added, her voice still calm but firmer now, "you need to accept reality. Anna has cut ties. For real."

The finality in her tone made Roseline’s face drain of color.

"Cut ties?" she whispered, almost disbelieving. "Never. She can’t do that to us."

Her voice cracked slightly, pride colliding with fear.

"Hugo... he needs her," she insisted, grasping at the thought like it was a solution. "She’s the only one who can talk to Daniel. If Daniel steps in—"

Kathrine let out a slow breath.

"Do you hear yourself?" she asked gently.

Roseline blinked at her.

"You’re not asking for your daughter," Kathrine continued. "You’re asking for leverage."

The accusation hung between them.

Roseline’s fingers tightened around her phone.

"I am thinking about your father," she defended weakly.

"And Anna has spent her entire life thinking about you both," Kathrine replied. "When has anyone thought about her?"

The question settled heavy in the corridor.

Roseline opened her mouth—then closed it.

For the first time, the argument didn’t come easily.