Goodbye, Mr. Regret novel Chapter 553

Jessica’s gaze lingered on the album in her hands, her eyes dimming with disappointment and sorrow.

Mrs. Zimmerman noticed the sudden shift in her mood and immediately understood—this must have something to do with Timothy and Henry.

A woman might one day move on from her husband, but letting go of her children was another matter entirely.

She took the album from the butler and gently dismissed him. Once the door shut behind him, Jessica’s eyelids fluttered, and tears spilled silently down her cheeks.

Mrs. Zimmerman quickly drew her down onto the sofa, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong? Tell me, please.”

What Henry had done to her had left wounds so deep they sometimes stole her breath. She’d spent so long trying to process it all, but moving past it wasn’t easy. Most days she tried not to think about it, but when the memories surfaced, the pain was as sharp as ever.

But Henry was her son. What choice did she have? She couldn’t undo his existence nor pretend he didn’t belong to her. From the moment he was born, that bond had been sealed, unbreakable, regardless of where life might take them.

A mother’s heart is soft by nature. No matter how strong she seemed on the outside, nothing could hide her secret fragility. Some pains were too raw to touch, too deep to put into words. Speaking them aloud only tore the wounds open again.

Mrs. Zimmerman hugged her tighter, setting the album aside and clutching Jessica’s hand in hers. In moments like these, the presence and understanding of another person could be a balm to the soul.

For so long, Jessica had borne everything alone.

Now, nestled in Mrs. Zimmerman’s embrace, her tears flowed freely—hotter, faster, impossible to hold back. She realized that being loved meant having permission to be weak.

Mrs. Zimmerman kept soothing her, “Let it out, darling. Cry if you need to. You’ll feel better, I promise.”

For once, Jessica let herself sob aloud. All this time, she’d only allowed herself silent tears, never daring to cry openly—her husband and even her own son had never cared about her feelings.

That choked, wounded sound broke Mrs. Zimmerman’s heart, too.

But after the storm passed, Jessica felt lighter, as if a weight had lifted. She pulled away, wiping her eyes. “Mom, I don’t want this album anymore.”

It wasn’t what she wanted. Not anymore.

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