Dear Ex-wife Marry Me by Twin Bridge

Chatper 1462

The children didn’t know that she had passed away. They’d left some candy bars on her bedside table,

still hoping she’d wake up for a sweet treat. Quentin knew she wouldn’t make it through the week, but

he hadn’t expected her to leave them today. “Did she see what they’ve done to the garden?” he asked,

his voice raspy and his eyes reddening, as he turned to one of the youngsters by his side. “Quentin,

she saw it,” the child whispered. “She wanted to get up, but I wasn’t strong enough to help her. She

said she wanted to rest a bit more, so I left some candy for her.” “Good kid,” Quentin said softly, patting

the child on the head. Maja, who stood by the door, overheard the exchange and felt a loss for words.

She quietly left the room. In the dead of night, when all the children were asleep, Quentin took a shovel

and started to dig in the yard. Beside a small bench lay the lifeless body of the woman. Maja joined him

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with another shovel, and together they dug a grave over a yard deep. They gently laid her to rest.

Quentin didn’t erect a headstone; he simply knelt before the mound of earth and bowed his head in

respect. “She worked tirelessly all her life, looking after us without ever resting,” Quentin said, breaking

the silence. “Thank you, Maja. If you hadn’t come to school today, she would’ve dragged herself to

class, probably throwing up blood again. Today, she finally got to rest.” Memories of Lillian flashed

through Maja’s mind, bringing with them a sharp pang of sorrow. Quentin stood up, dusting the dirt from

his knees. “Who are you looking for? What’s your plan?” Maja pulled out a photo of Lillian. “Have you

seen her on Outer Island?” Quentin’s pupils contracted sharply. “My teacher brought her here once.

I’ve seen her, but she’s gone too.” Maja’s hand trembled, and the photo nearly slipped from her grasp.

Quentin’s tone was flat, “My teacher saved her, but she couldn’t bring her back. Just like we did just

now, we found a place for her to be laid to rest.” “That’s impossible!” “I can take you there. I was young,

but I remember. It’s just beyond the garden.” He went inside to fetch a flashlight and another shovel.

Confused and heavy-hearted, Maja followed him. They stopped less than a kilometer from the garden,

near a large oak tree. “She told my teacher she loved the tree and wanted to be buried beneath it. It

was about six years ago,” Quentin recalled, his voice trailing off as he began to dig. Two meters

down, he uncovered a coffin. Maja couldn’t bring herself to look, but she watched as he opened it to

reveal a skeleton. She stumbled backward, her legs giving way. Quentin let out a sigh. The death of his

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teacher had drained him, leaving no room for any other emotions. “The hospital on Outer Island can

only handle minor illnesses,” Quentin explained. “Most who go there don’t make it. She must’ve been

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quite a medical expert to end up there.” Maja stood frozen, feeling both heartache and a splitting

headache. Finally, Quentin hesitated, “Should I not have brought you here?” The skeleton left no clues

to whether it was Lillian or not, but the height was similar, and Quentin had no reason to lie. Maja sat

down on the damp ground, her pants soaking up the moisture, but she seemed not to notice. Was

Lillian truly gone? Suddenly, a sharp pain in her stomach caused her to vomit, and then everything

went black. “Maja!” Quentin shouted, rushing to her side and carrying her back to the garden. The

children had gathered around, their innocent faces filled with curiosity and concern. One of them, with a

naive tone, asked Quentin, “Can we eat her now?” “Quentin, when do we start? She looks like she’s

carrying a baby.” Their angelic features belied the chilling words they spoke. Quentin intercepted the

knife one of them had picked up. “We can’t eat her.” “Why not, Quentin?” they whined, their

expressions pitiful yet unnerving.

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