Regretting the Wife He Threw Away novel Chapter 671

The knock on the master bedroom door echoed softly through the quiet house.

Briony Kensington had just stepped out of the bathroom, damp hair clinging to her neck, dressed in white cotton pajamas. The long sleeves and pants did little to hide how thin she’d become.

She walked over and opened the door.

Stewart Wentworth stood there, frowning slightly. “It’s late. Why are you washing your hair now?”

She offered a weary smile. “We had a barbecue tonight. My hair still smells like smoke.”

“You shouldn’t catch a chill,” Stewart said, his voice stern. “Let me dry your hair for you.”

Briony blinked, surprised, and shook her head. “It’s nothing. I can manage.”

Stewart ignored her protest and held out a cup. “You need to take your medicine first. Don’t worry, I’ll leave as soon as I’m done.”

She hesitated, pressing her lips together, then gave in.

…

Briony settled in front of her dressing table. Stewart handed her the medicine; it was warm, just the right temperature. She drank it in one go, the bitterness so familiar it barely registered anymore.

A moment later, a wrapped piece of creamy white candy appeared in front of her.

Stewart’s gentle voice came from above. “From Nina’s secret stash.”

Briony’s lashes fluttered as she reached out and took it, closing her hand around the sweet.

Stewart switched on the hairdryer, setting it to warm. One of his arms was still bandaged; the doctor had said those knife wounds were deep, with some infection and inflammation, and would likely leave scars. Stewart didn’t seem to care. He was just grateful it was his left arm, so it didn’t get in the way of looking after Briony.

The only sound in the bedroom was the low hum of the hairdryer.

Briony’s hair was long and silky, falling to her waist, but lately, because of her illness, it had started to come out in clumps.

When her hair was finally dry, loose strands littered the floor.

Stewart knelt silently and gathered the fallen hair into his palm, closing his fist around it.

His head lowered, Adam’s apple bobbing, pain flickering in his eyes.

Briony watched his reflection in the mirror, saw what he was doing. But she said nothing.

She stood, thanked him softly, and went to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

Stewart listened to the sound of running water, put the hairdryer away, and quietly left the bedroom.

Once outside, he leaned against the closed door, gazing at the small bundle of dark hair in his hand.

Each strand was a cruel reminder that Briony’s body was fading, her strength burning out.

His breath caught. Alone in the silent hallway, Stewart closed his eyes and swallowed his anxiety, letting it settle in the pit of his stomach.

…

The following week, the Kensington villa bustled with warmth and laughter.