Chapter 789
[ 517 words ]
Chapter 789:
My thoughts were still hazy, caught between the intimacy of the previous night and the memory of his ragged breathing by my ear. The memory was so vivid my heart began beating faster.
I shook my head. Although my stomach was empty, I didn’t feel like eating.
“Listen to me. You need to eat something, even if it’s only a little,” he said, his voice gentle but firm.
Knowing there was no point arguing, I quietly agreed and climbed out of bed.
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When I entered the bathroom, the air was still heavy with moisture from the shower. Subconsciously, I glanced toward the temperature dial. The indicator was set all the way to the coldest level.
My thoughts immediately returned to what must have happened that morning. Ethan had stood alone beneath the freezing water, trying to suppress the desire he’d been struggling with.
Heat suddenly rose to my cheeks. I quickly turned on the faucet and splashed cold water over my face, desperately trying to clear those embarrassing images from my mind.
By the time I finished washing up and walked out of the bathroom, Ethan had changed into a perfectly tailored suit.
I thought he was preparing to return to the office and handle his work. But instead, he came to me, took my hand, and carefully brushed a loose strand of hair away from my face.
“I’m taking you to see a psychologist,” he told me softly. “It’s a private clinic. Quiet, no media or strangers around to bother us.”
When he noticed my hesitation, he dropped his head to meet my gaze, a domineering glint flashing in his eyes. “Lianne, you have to stay with me for a lifetime. For that to happen, you need to do whatever it takes to get better. Do you understand?”
Staring at his determined expression, I felt the last defenses around my heart begin to crumble.
He had lowered himself completely just to be with me. The least I could do was try. I could take one step toward him, even if all it did was give him some peace of mind.
With that thought, I nodded.
During the drive to the clinic, I learned that Melisa was the one who had recommended the psychologist.
The consultation room felt warm and inviting, completely different from the cold, sterile white walls found in most hospitals.
The psychologist, a gentle-looking middle-aged man, carefully went through my medical records. After reviewing everything, he suggested starting with medication first, to reduce the risk of nerve damage that surgery might cause.
“Doctor, could you help me get rid of the hallucinations first?” I asked, clasping my hands tightly. “I keep hearing someone talking to me, leading me toward places I know I shouldn’t go.”
The moment I said this, the psychologist’s hand paused on the page he’d just turned, surprise briefly flashing across his face.
“Based on the extent of the damage, hallucinations this severe shouldn’t normally occur,” he murmured quietly.
Ethan sat beside me, holding my hand firmly. I could feel his palm grow damp.
“Do whatever you have to do to cure her,” he told the psychologist, his tone carrying the weight of an order.
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