Chapter 220

Vincent froze, genuinely startled by the question. Nobody had ever cared enough to ask him that.

His father, in his pursuit of grooming a perfect successor, had never allowed him to express any preferences or desires, so he had grown accustomed to suppressing his feelings.

His mother, even more relentless, orchestrated every aspect of his existence-his education, his career, and even his marriage-always chasing her own satisfaction, never sparing a thought for what he might want.

Vincent had never been taught to search for his own desires. The habit of ignoring his emotions was ingrained deeply. Appeasing his parents and keeping them content was the only way he knew how to survive their world wvithout sparking another round of bitter conflict.

Hannah's arrival in his world had been purely by chance. In the beginning, he'd found her presence jarring-he kept her at a distance, his demeanor icy and unwelcoming.

Yet,everything had shifted the day his grandmother, after a brief encounter with Hannah, took an immediate liking to her. Vincent had always cared deeply about his grandmother's opinions, so her approval lingered in his mind, slowly softening his attitude. He'd begun seeing Hannah differently and started dating her with marriage in mind.

As months passed, it'd become clear that Hannah was a rare find-someone who not only fit seamlessly into his life, but also earned his grandmother's unwavering affection. For him, that alone seemed to justify his decision to marry her.

Vincent paused, his voice barely above a whisper. "My feelings don't matter."

Hannah met his eyes, steady and sincere. "Your feelings matter. You're not some machine but a person with your own preferences and desires. If you ignore your own feelings, what's left of you? Isn't it your life, your marriage-not your grandmother's?"

Vincent's jaw clenched hard enough to ache. She was the first person to make him think about his own

feelings, the first to tell him what he felt actually mattered.

That idea ran counter to everything his father had ever taught him. Confusion and vulnerability flickered in his eyes. He stared at Hannah, struggling to form words, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed back a dozen unfinished sentences.

He finally said, his voice barely above a murmur,"My feelings really matter?" The words hovered between a question and an attempt at seeking confirmation.

Hannah met his gaze without wavering. "They do. More than you realizer′′she said, her tone gentle but unwavering.

Her words seemed to linger in the air, reverberating through him. He fell silent.

Unable to see, Hannah didn't catch his reply, and a flicker of regret crossed her mind for having spoken so candidly. Still, his decision to marry her solely based on assuming she was the right fit for him had caused her so much pain in their marriage over the years.

She couldn't keep it in any longer. "Here's a piece of unsolicited advice. If you continue to prioritize your grandmother's approval over your own feelings, don't rush into another marriage. You'll only end up hurting someone else again. Unless you learn to break that habit, you're not suited for marriage."

She'd lived the reality-she knew how suffocating that kind of marriage could be. Only now did she truly grasp why it had failed: the answer was both painfully obvious and maddeningly complex, yet in the end,she could finally draw a clean line beneath it. She felt at peace-there was nothing left for her to regret.

A shadow passed over Vincent's eyes as her words sank in. He hadn't meant to cause her pain, but the damage was done. His voice was a rough whisper. "I'm sorry..."

A heavy silence stretched between them before Hannah finally murmured, "Alright. I accept it."

Previously, she'd been unable to let go of the lies he'd spun around her life, but now, in the quiet shadow of the cemetery, she found herself able to forgive the stark truth he'd laid bare. This was the first time she'd truly acknowledged his apology-not just in passing, but with a clear heart. Maybe it was the somber weight of this place, or maybe it was the raw honesty he'd offered her at last. Whatever it was, she chose to let go.

For a moment, Vincent's gaze drifted, the world blurring at the edges.

Neither of them spoke.

After a pause, Hannah broke the hush. "Shall we go?" she asked quietly, her voice steady but spent.

Vincent's voice carried a quiet ache. "Let's stay a bi longer. We might not get another chance like this."

Hearing his words, Hannah felt a strange twinge in her chest-but she quickly suppressed it. "You can come by your father's gravestone whenever you feel like it," she replied, her tone cool and distant.

He offered a soft, resigned "Yeah."

After a moment, he added, "In a month, I'll let you go."

He lowered his gaze. One month left, and the last threads binding them would finally snap. All the pain and sadness he had caused her would vanish along with his departure. She would gradually forget him...

Unaware, Vincent's fingers curled in on themselves, tension flickering through his hand.

"Thank you," Hannah murmured, her voice low and gentle. She wasn't thanking him for the promise of freedom, but for ensuring she'd be receiving the best medical care. He'd been wrong to keep her captive.Setting her free was the only decent thing left to do.

Vincent's eyes lingered on her, unreadable and shadowed. One month later, she'd be back to her old life.

Once he left the country, their paths would never cross again. This visit to his father's gravestone was

nothing but a silent goodbye.

A long, loaded pause hung between them before Vincent reached for her wrist, his touch gentle but resolute. "Let's go. I'll take you back."

They moved through the quiet together, neither speaking, each tangled in their own thoughts.

Hannah navigated every step with careful deliberation, while Vincent replayed her earlier words over and over in his mind.

As they drew near the car, Vincent spotted Erica standing beside it, arms folded and waiting. Vincent's brows drew together in a frown. "You're still here?"