Ch. 223: Mr. Edwards’ Unraveled Life chapter 223

Chapter 223

Norah stormed into her room, slamming the door shut and cutting off the noise of the world outside.

In the now-silent living room, Kevin sat frozen in his chair, his jaw clenched, and his thoughts a chaotic storm.

Why was she so determined to keep this child? What was it about that man she couldn’t let go of?

The man didn’t even know she was pregnant, didn’t care that she lived in a cramped apartment, and had never once bothered to check on her.

A bitter frustration swelled within Kevin. No matter what he did, Norah was never satisfied. He had painstakingly prepared chicken soup for her, burning his hands in the process, and she wouldn’t take a sip—thinking it was poisoned. He glanced down at his scalded fingers, the sting a reminder of his misplaced effort.

Was he a fool, groveling for a woman who didn’t care?

Kevin’s face darkened as his anger surged. Rising abruptly, he strode to the door.

Kian, who had been waiting outside, was startled to see him. Confused, he asked, "Mr. Edwards, aren’t you staying to talk to Mrs. Edwards?"

Kevin scoffed, his voice cold and clipped. "What’s the point? Am I supposed to beg her for more insults?" With that, he stormed off.

Kian trailed behind, puzzled. Things had seemed harmonious earlier—what could’ve gone so wrong in such a short time?

Inside the car, Kevin slammed the door shut, yanked at his tie, and unbuttoned the top of his shirt in frustration. He lit a cigarette, the smoke curling around him as he tried to settle his turbulent emotions.

Then his phone rang.

He glanced at the screen, took another drag, and answered gruffly, "What?"

"Kevin! Where are you?" Esteban’s familiar voice came through, tinged with amusement. "I’ve been looking for you everywhere."

"I’m not home," Kevin replied flatly.

"Obviously," Esteban chuckled. "Let me guess—your wife’s got you worked up again?"

Kevin said nothing, taking another deep drag of his cigarette.

Esteban, ever the joker, continued, "Man, you’re a master at everything, but you can’t seem to figure out one woman. What gives?"

"If you don’t have anything useful to say, I’m hanging up," Kevin retorted sharply.

"Alright, alright, relax!" Esteban laughed before turning serious. "Kevin, I know Norah left you before. Back then, you acted like you didn’t care, but I saw through you. Why are you still pretending?"

Kevin exhaled slowly, the smoke dissipating in the dim light. "It doesn’t matter. She doesn’t appreciate it anyway."

Esteban paused, then quipped, "Maybe that’s because you’re always running to Bianca. Kevin, you’ve put more effort into her than you ever have with Norah."

"Don’t start with that nonsense," Kevin snapped. His tone turned icy. "You know Bianca means nothing to me."

"Yeah, I know that. But does Norah?" Esteban countered. "You think she wants to live like this? She probably doesn’t feel safe with you, man."

"She doesn’t love me," Kevin shot back bitterly. "She loves some loser who doesn’t even care she exists."

Esteban sighed. "Or maybe she’s just tired of feeling like an afterthought."

The line went quiet for a moment. Kevin stared out the window, his jaw tightening.

Esteban added one final thought. "You’ve been married for seven years, Kevin. She stuck around for a reason. But if you keep pushing her away, don’t expect her to stay much longer."

Kevin hung up without a word, tossing the cigarette out the window.

Looking up, his eyes landed on Norah’s apartment. Her lights were still on. She had been crying when he last saw her, and the thought made his chest tighten.

Before he could stop himself, Kevin stepped out of the car.

Kian, who had been waiting nervously, blurted out, "Mr. Edwards, you’re going back to see Mrs.? That’s good! Maybe if you apologize—"

But Kevin was already halfway to the door.

Inside the apartment, everything was eerily quiet. Norah hadn’t come out of her room, and the chicken soup on the table had long gone cold. Kevin took it to the kitchen and began reheating it, determined to make her drink it later.

He wouldn’t drug her. That wasn’t who he was.

Once the soup was on the stove, Kevin made his way to Norah’s room. The door creaked open as he peered inside.

She was asleep, curled up on the bed. Tear stains marked her cheeks, her nose slightly red from crying. Even in her sleep, she looked fragile, her small frame trembling slightly with each soft sob.

Kevin’s heart ached.

He stepped closer, gently adjusting her blanket so she wouldn’t catch a chill.

As he brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, she stirred slightly, murmuring in her sleep, "Kevin..."

He leaned in, his breath hitching, waiting to hear her next words.

"You bastard," she muttered weakly.

Kevin froze, staring at her. For a moment, he didn’t know whether to laugh or be angry.

Instead, he sighed. What could he do? He couldn’t bring himself to be mad at her—not when she looked so vulnerable.

His fingers gently wiped away the remaining tears from her lashes as he whispered, "Norah..."

Leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, his voice low and hoarse. "I’ll find a way to fix this... for us."