Separated Rooms for Three Years, He Panicked After I Moved Out Chapter 15

Separated Rooms for Three Years, He Panicked After I Moved Out Chapter 15

He looked me up and down, then nodded.

“You’ve lost weight. Come in. The kitchen made your favorite roasted ribs.”

At dinner, my father didn’t say much. He just kept putting more ribs on my plate.

My mother sat beside him, glancing at me from time to time, as if she wanted to say something but didn’t know how.

In the end, my father spoke first.

“Marceline, are you sure about the divorce?”

“I’m sure.”

“Did he mistreat you?”

That question gave me pause.

Mistreat wasn’t the right word.

But he had never been kind to me, either.

“No. We just weren’t right for each other.”

My father put down his knife and fork and was silent for a long time.

“It was my fault. I wasn’t capable enough. The company ran into trouble, and I let you walk into that marriage.”

“Dad—”

“Let me finish.”

He looked up at me, his eyes filled with guilt and pain.

“For the past three years, I’ve felt like I failed you. But you never complained. Every time we called, you said everything was fine and told us not to worry.”

“Your mother and I, we thought you two could at least make it work.”

“It’s only now we realize that wasn’t the truth at all.”