Her Scissors Cut My Hair, But His Betrayal Cut Deeper - Chapter 121: Chapter 121
You are reading Her Scissors Cut My Hair, But His Betrayal Cut Deeper, Chapter 121: Chapter 121. Read more chapters of Her Scissors Cut My Hair, But His Betrayal Cut Deeper.
Elon’s moods became unpredictable, and even my time with grandpa was cut short.
He arranged thorough postpartum care, even hiring a nutritionist to help me recover.
Two years of meticulous care, but it had no effect.
I grew thinner, my chin sharp, and Elon’s frown deepened.
Even when he coaxed me gently, I couldn’t eat more, gagging at the thought of food.
In this cozy little rented apartment, I felt no happiness.
Eventually, Elon gave in and agreed to take me out.
He stayed by my side the entire time, and we entered the therapy room together.
We each went into a separate room for counseling.
From that day, the once cold and powerful Elon began taking psychiatric medication daily.
He was the only heir to the Franco family, yet he always clung to me and said he was an orphan.
He begged me not to abandon him, to love him more.
I listened absently as the doctor explained terms like "bipolar disorder."
They were all asking me to love Elon, to love him more, not to abandon him.
But since I chose Elon to be my family, how could I abandon him?
Two people with mental disorders became husband and wife, and he drew his sense of security from me.
Facing the man who’d been with me since high school, I grew more irritable, more resistant.
The day I realized the rift between us, Elon took me to a temple to meditate.
I sincerely wished for grandpa to live a long life, reluctantly bringing Elon along.
He tied my red cloth to a tree and prayed earnestly that I would love him again.
Three years…five years…even ten years, one day I would love him again.
As we left the temple, I looked back and saw the red cloth fall from the tree.
At the end of the mountain path, a young child suddenly ran out.
He clung to Elon’s leg, calling him “Daddy” in a stammering voice.
Behind the boy stood Stacy, sent to the temple by her family, now estranged from her child.
I watched the strange scene, confused about Stacy’s connection to Elon.
My memories blurred, settling on Elon’s cold words.
“I don’t know her.”
“How could I have any connection with someone like this?”
He arranged thorough postpartum care, even hiring a nutritionist to help me recover.
Two years of meticulous care, but it had no effect.
I grew thinner, my chin sharp, and Elon’s frown deepened.
Even when he coaxed me gently, I couldn’t eat more, gagging at the thought of food.
In this cozy little rented apartment, I felt no happiness.
Eventually, Elon gave in and agreed to take me out.
He stayed by my side the entire time, and we entered the therapy room together.
We each went into a separate room for counseling.
From that day, the once cold and powerful Elon began taking psychiatric medication daily.
He was the only heir to the Franco family, yet he always clung to me and said he was an orphan.
He begged me not to abandon him, to love him more.
I listened absently as the doctor explained terms like "bipolar disorder."
They were all asking me to love Elon, to love him more, not to abandon him.
But since I chose Elon to be my family, how could I abandon him?
Two people with mental disorders became husband and wife, and he drew his sense of security from me.
Facing the man who’d been with me since high school, I grew more irritable, more resistant.
The day I realized the rift between us, Elon took me to a temple to meditate.
I sincerely wished for grandpa to live a long life, reluctantly bringing Elon along.
He tied my red cloth to a tree and prayed earnestly that I would love him again.
Three years…five years…even ten years, one day I would love him again.
As we left the temple, I looked back and saw the red cloth fall from the tree.
At the end of the mountain path, a young child suddenly ran out.
He clung to Elon’s leg, calling him “Daddy” in a stammering voice.
Behind the boy stood Stacy, sent to the temple by her family, now estranged from her child.
I watched the strange scene, confused about Stacy’s connection to Elon.
My memories blurred, settling on Elon’s cold words.
“I don’t know her.”
“How could I have any connection with someone like this?”
End of Her Scissors Cut My Hair, But His Betrayal Cut Deeper Chapter 121. Continue reading Chapter 122 or return to Her Scissors Cut My Hair, But His Betrayal Cut Deeper book page.