The unwanted wife’s unexpected comeback

Chapter 1128

Chapter 1128:

“Gemma!” Corey's voice cracked, growing more desperate with each call. “Gemma!”

Corey trembled, cradling Gemma'’s lifeless form in his arms, unwilling to accept the truth. He pressed his fingers

to her throat, but there was no pulse. Holding her close, he felt her warmth slowly fading, realizing she would

never hug him back again.

The floodgates opened, and a dam of sorrow that Corey had buried deep inside for so long burst free. His body

shook with sobs, his voice broken and raw. “Gemma, please, open your eyes. Look at me.” Alicia turned away,

tears streaming down her face.

Caden gently wrapped his arms around Alicia, shielding her ears from Corey's grief-stricken cries.

“We should leave him be.” Caden’s voice was deep and calm, though it carried unmistakable sadness. “Let Corey

say his goodbye.”

In June, Corey laid Gemma to rest beside Pierre. Her grave was surrounded by seeds of the flowers she had

always loved.

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Corey stood silently before the fresh mound of earth, staring at the photo of Gemma smiling brightly, lost in his

memories. A soft breeze stirred the air, scattering delicate petals from the flowers around her grave.

Corey turned to Alicia, his voice quiet but heavy with pain. “If I die, don’t buryhere. Just scatter my ashes

somewhere far away.” He felt unworthy of being Gemma'’s brother. He hoped their paths wouldn't cross again in

the next life.

Alicia could barely recognize the man before her. The light had gone out of him, and she felt an overwhelming

pang of regret. She grasped his hand gently, trying to pull him back from the edge. “Corey, Gemma loved

flowers so much. You have to plant them for her every year.”

Corey said nothing, his eyes still fixed on the photo of Gemma, his expression hollow with sorrow.

After the funeral, life seemed to settle into a quiet routine.

Alicia never saw Corey again.

Autumn came, and with it, a shift in Warrington’s weather. The once vibrant leaves fell, blanketing the earth in

shades of brown and gold. They were quickly soaked by the cold rain, their delicate forms beginning to decay.

Scarlette, just eight months old, was already full of mischief. With her four tiny teeth, she gnawed on everything

within reach.

Alicia clicked her tongue playfully, and Scarlette immediately crawled away on all fours, her giggles filling the

room as she avoided her mother’s gentle pursuit.

Alicia watched, smiling fondly at the

2 “ q 9

little rascal. “She Tiree

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Scarlette paused, sitting on the floor

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her mothefwith a look of triumph.