Rebirth: The New Bride Wants A Divorce-Chapter 491: Sometimes I find you strange

Kathrine could not deny it.

Hugo had loved her. In his own flawed, stubborn, overbearing way, he had loved her fiercely. When he said he only wanted to ease her suffering, she believed him.

Any father who thought his daughter was in pain might try to rewrite the world for her.

But love did not erase the lies.

And that was the part that stung.

She had not expected him to keep things from her. Not repeatedly. Not so carefully.

The night air felt heavier as those thoughts circled her mind. Ethan noticed it instantly. The way her gaze unfocused. The faint gloss in her eyes as she stared at nothing in particular.

"Come here," he said softly.

He pulled her into his arms without waiting for permission. His chin rested over her head as he pressed a kiss to her crown.

She exhaled slowly against his chest.

"You don’t need to blame yourself for being confused," Ethan murmured. "And if part of you thinks your father wasn’t entirely wrong, that’s okay. You don’t have to sort it all out tonight."

His voice was steady. No judgment. No pressure.

Kathrine tightened her hold on him, grounding herself in his warmth, as if anchoring her racing thoughts to something solid.

"I keep thinking," she whispered, her voice muffled against him, "that maybe I’m being unfair. Maybe he really thought he was protecting me."

Ethan stroked her hair gently. "He probably did."

She swallowed. "But protecting someone by taking away their choices..." Her fingers curled slightly into his shirt. "That doesn’t feel right."

"No," Ethan agreed quietly. "It doesn’t."

She pulled back just enough to look up at him, her eyes reflecting the faint city lights.

"I don’t know what’s waiting for me, Ethan," she admitted. "I don’t know what I’ll remember. I don’t know what truths will come out."

Her voice trembled slightly, but she held his gaze.

"But I do know one thing," she continued. "I am not like my parents."

There was steel beneath her softness now.

Ethan’s expression shifted, pride flickering in his eyes. "You’re not."

"They made choices out of fear. Out of control. Out of revenge." Her jaw tightened faintly. "I won’t."

He cupped her face gently, his thumb brushing beneath her eye. "You already don’t."

She searched his face as if needing confirmation.

"You question yourself," he said. "You reflect. You care about whether you’re hurting someone. That alone makes you different."

Kathrine let those words settle.

"I don’t want to manipulate anyone to feel safe," she said quietly. "I don’t want to lie to protect my pride. And I don’t want revenge to be the reason I move forward."

Ethan rested his forehead lightly against hers.

"Then don’t," he said simply.

A small, shaky laugh escaped her. "You make it sound easy."

"It’s not easy," he replied. "It’s just a decision you keep making. Again and again."

She closed her eyes briefly.

"You’re afraid the past will drag you into their patterns," he added gently.

She nodded once.

"It won’t," he said firmly. "Because you’re aware of it. And awareness changes everything."

Kathrine breathed in slowly, letting the tension leave her shoulders.

For so long, she had been afraid of becoming a reflection of the very things she resented. Afraid that buried memories might reveal she was capable of the same manipulation, the same emotional warfare.

But standing here, in this quiet moment, she felt something clearer.

Choice.

"I want to move forward differently," she whispered.

"Then you will," Ethan replied.

She looked at him again, steadier now.

"And if my father lied because he loved me," she said softly, "then I’ll learn to forgive him. But I won’t let that love justify everything."

Ethan smiled faintly. "That’s called maturity."

She rolled her eyes lightly, though her expression had softened.

"Thank you," she murmured again.

"For what this time?" he teased gently.

"For reminding me that I’m allowed to feel conflicted without being weak."

He wrapped his arms around her once more, holding her firmly.

"You’re not weak, Kathrine," he said against her hair. "You’re evolving."

The city below continued its restless hum. The future remained uncertain. Her memories still lingered just beyond reach.

But for the first time that night, her heart did not feel torn between blame and loyalty.

It felt steady.

She was not the Kathrine from before.

Not the woman who walked through life with blind ambition, brushing past people as long as her own goals were intact. Not the one who made decisions that burned bridges beyond repair. Not the one who thought strength meant indifference.

That version of her had been sharp, untouchable... and reckless.

This time was different.

This time she had been handed something rare. A second chance. Not just to remember, but to choose better.

And she refused to waste it.

She would not repeat irreversible mistakes. She would not let pride dictate her actions. She would not mistake control for power or silence for peace.

Standing there in Ethan’s arms, she understood something clearly.

Growth was not about forgetting the past.

It was about refusing to become it again.

Her fingers tightened slightly against his back as her thoughts sharpened.

She had already seen how fragile alliances could be. How easily people masked their intentions behind concern. Roseline was one thing. Predictable in her manipulation. Emotional. Transparent if one looked closely enough.

But Norma...

Norma was different.

Quiet. Observant. Patient.

The kind of woman who did not move pieces loudly. The kind who rearranged the board when no one was looking.

Kathrine exhaled slowly.

She could not afford to underestimate anyone anymore.

Not Roseline with her subtle guilt tactics.

Not Norma with her calculated composure.

And certainly not herself.

"I won’t be careless again," she murmured quietly, more to herself than to Ethan.

He pulled back slightly. "Careless?"

Kathrine blinked, only then realizing what she had blurted out.

The words had slipped too easily off her tongue.

For a split second she considered correcting herself. Rephrasing it. Laughing it off. Saying she was being dramatic.

But when she opened her mouth, nothing came out.

She closed it again. Opened it. Closed it. Like a startled fish struggling to find water.

Ethan watched her with quiet curiosity, not alarmed, just... attentive.

"You know," he said slowly, taking a small step back though his hand still held hers, "sometimes I find you strange."

"...strange?"