My Coldhearted Husband'S Regret novel Chapter 132

132 An Exhausted Mother’s Comfort

132 An Exhausted Mother’s Comfort

The stairs seemed steeper than usual as I made my way to the second floor. I found Coco and Emma huddled around a tablet, their faces illuminated by the screen’s glow. My daughter’s laughter – bright and uninhibited – sent a pang through my chest. How long had it been since I’d heard her laugh like that around me?

Her observation hit harder than any adult critique could have. Children saw the truth

without filters.

Emma grinned. “You can try.”

Coco grinned. “Okay, Uncle Victor. Can I play video games next time too?”

“Coco is upstairs with Emma. They’ve been playing video games for the past hour.”

I bit my lip. What else had Damien been saying about me?

She hung up, looking pleased. “Daddy said fifteen minutes. He’s bringing me a

surprise!”

“She said you’ve been quiet lately,” he finally said.

I watched as the car pulled away, taking my daughter with it. The weight of her absence settled over me immediately, heavier than her physical presence had been in my arms. I stood there long after the taillights had disappeared, alone in the cold, too

exhausted to even move.

Before I could respond, Coco’s delighted squeal erupted from the car. “A unicorn plushie! It’s so big!”

I set her down carefully, my arms aching from the exertion. Damien’s sleek black car pulled up to the curb. The engine hummed to silence, and he stepped out, tall and imposing in his tailored suit. Not a hair out of place, not a sign of the fatigue that seemed to permeate my very bones.

Damien’s words lingered in the air between us. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. The conversation about his “invisibility technology” had left me drained. I watched as he turned away, his tall figure moving with practiced grace toward the exit.

“Damien.” I matched his tone – neutral, detached.

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132 An Exhausted Mother’s Comfort

She nodded. “Will you carry me, Mom? Please?”

“I’ll pick Coco up later this evening.”

We said our goodbyes to the remaining guests and stepped outside to wait for Damien. The evening air had turned sharp, carrying the bite of approaching winter. Coco shivered beside me.

He smiled again. “Let’s get you home. It’s past your bedtime.”

“Yes?”

I glanced at my watch. “I should get her. Damien will be here soon.”

“Daddy?” Coco’s voice brightened instantly. “When are you coming?… Fifteen minutes?… Okay!… Love you too!”

Beck, Uncle Victor’s assistant, appeared beside me. “He certainly knows how to make an exit,” she murmured.

“Just tired,” I replied. The excuse was becoming my standard response lately. Tired. It covered so much while revealing nothing.

Uncle Victor stepped forward, offering Damien a formal handshake. “Mr. Thorne.” The

coolness in his voice was unmistakable.

“Coco,” I called softly. “It’s time to go. Your father’s coming to pick you up soon.”

She wrapped her arms around my neck as I lifted her. Her weight settled against me, familiar and yet somehow foreign. When had she gotten so big? It seemed like just yesterday she had been a tiny bundle in my arms.

I faltered. “What do you mean?”

The question caught me off guard – so ordinary, yet so unexpected coming from him. When was the last time Damien had asked about my wellbeing?

I managed a weak smile. “Years of practice.”

As Coco scrambled into the car, Damien turned to me. For a moment, we stood in silence, two strangers who had once shared everything.

“Daddy, Mom carried me even though I’m heavy now,” Coco announced proudly.

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132 An Exhausted Mother’s Comfort

Coco turned to my cousin. “Thanks, Emma! Next time I’ll beat your high score.”

“Elara, are you alright?” Uncle Victor’s concerned voice broke through my thoughts.

“Thank you,” I whispered. My arms strained with her weight, but I held her close, savoring the warmth of her small body against mine. These were the moments I lived for the simple, quiet connections that reminded me why I kept going each day.

“Are you going to be less tired soon? I miss when you weren’t tired.”

“I know her schedule, Elara.” A hint of irritation crept into his voice.

The question broke something inside me. I tightened my hold on her, blinking back sudden tears. “I hope so, Coco. I really hope so.”

The remaining hour of the banquet passed in a blur. I made polite conversation, laughed at appropriate moments, and sipped sparingly from my wine glass. All the while, my mind kept circling back to Damien’s words: “There’s a lot about me you’ve chosen not to see, Elara.”

“Alright,” I said, bending down. “Just until your father arrives.”

She nodded, seeming to accept this. “That’s what Daddy said. He said you work a lot

now.”

I crossed my arms, a defensive gesture. “Did she?”

“Where’s my surprise?” she demanded.

“Elara,” he acknowledged me with a nod.

He caught her in his arms with practiced ease, lifting her as if she weighed nothing. “There’s my girl.” His smile – genuine and warm – was reserved for her alone.

“Not for you,” Coco said confidently. “You’re super strong.”

I stood back, suddenly aware of my rumpled clothes and tired eyes. The contrast between us had never felt so stark – Damien, polished and energetic even at the end of the day, and me, barely holding together.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

As we made our way down the hallway, Coco looked up at me. “Mom?”

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132 An Exhausted Mother’s Comfort

“Mr. Vance.” Damien’s response was equally detached.

Damien’s lips curved slightly. “I should get her home.”

“You’re quiet. You used to talk all the time, asking about my day and stuff.” She said it matter–of–factly, without accusation. “Now you’re just… quiet.”

“Damien’s picking her up in a few minutes,” I replied.

Of course he did. Damien never forgot details – except when they involved my feelings, my needs, my existence.

As if I hadn’t spent seven years looking. Seven years searching for any sign that he might eventually see me.

“Cold?” I asked, pulling my own coat tighter.

He laughed. “Anytime.”

She pulled back slightly to look at me, her small fingers touching my cheek. “Don’t be sad, Mom.”

Of course he was. Damien never missed an opportunity to be the parent who brought gifts and surprises. I forced a smile. “That’s nice. Let’s go downstairs to wait.”

“Tired,” he finished. “Yes, I can see that.”

“In the car,” he replied, setting her down. “Go look in the back seat.”

Elara’s POV

Clara Bellweather, my grandmother, stood near the doorway. Her posture stiffened as Damien approached. Their exchange was brief and cold- a curt nod from him, a tight–lipped smile from her. She had never approved of him, even less so after witnessing years of his indifference toward me.

“You smell nice,” she murmured, nestling her head against my shoulder.

“I’m fine,” I replied automatically. “Just-”

He hesitated, seeming on the verge of saying something more. Then he nodded once and turned away, sliding back into the driver’s seat.

“Are you alright?”

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132 An Exhausted Mother’s Comfort

His gaze flicked to me, something unreadable passing through his eyes. “Did she?” He turned back to Coco. “You

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