BookToReadChapter 200
Shawn was frozen in place, replaying the last words Allison had said before she walked away. She'd told him not
to try anything as drastic as suicide again. Did that mean she still cared about him? That she was actually
concerned about his well-being and didn't want him to toss his life away so thoughtlessly?
The thought brought a lump to his throat, and his eyes started to well up. He knew it-Allison couldn't be that
heartless. There was still a glimmer of hope.
Joshua had gone all out and bought Allison a beachfront villa, sprawling over six hundred square feet, complete
with a large swimming pool and a backyard. From the garden swing, you could gaze out at the endless blue of
the ocean. The villa was decked out with all the furniture and appliances you could need, and the décor was
totally Allison's style, showing the effort Joshua had put into it.
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Allison directed the movers to set her stuff just right. She'd left the furniture and appliances at her old apartment
and only brought her personal items to the villa. Once everything was sorted, she took a refreshing shower and
collapsed onto the soft, comfy bed for smuch-needed rest.
Jayden was sure Shawn was having sserious mental health issues. Shawn kept convincing himself that
Allison still loved him. Whenever Jayden dropped by, he'd hear Shawn chatting away to himself, and if you
listened closely, it seemed like he was talking to Allison. But this "Allison" was all in Shawn's head.
Jayden gave Shawn's shoulder a little shake. "C'mon, man, don't freakout like this."
Shawn acted like he didn't even hear him, carrying on his imaginary conversation with "Allison," and strangely
enough, he seemed pretty content. At meals, he'd insist on setting an extra plate, saying it was for Allison.
Jayden was adamant that Shawn needed to see a therapist. Shawn, however, was having none of it, claiming he
was perfectly fine. Eventually, Jayden and Colt had to drag Shawn to the hospital.
The therapist, Ann, was in her
thirties, with a sharp bob that gave off a vibe of intelligence and grace On a regular weekday afternoon, right
after lunch, Ann clocked in for her shift at the hospital. She'd barely settled into her office when Shawn was
brought in.
Ann, a seasoned therapist at Oak Lake, had seen her fair share of patients, but folks like Shawn were few and far
between. Shawn was young, good-looking, and wealthy.
By most standards, the richer
someone is, the less likely they are to be hung up on love, because, well, money tends to make love easier to
cby. To put it in a lightherto
way, "Young, successful, driving a Bentley-love's just another game. For someone in Shawn's league, love usually
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏmranked low compared to status, power, and wealth.
Shawn was fiercely opposed to the idea of treatment.
"What are you doing? I'm not sick! Letgo. | want to leave!" Shawn yelled.
Ann felt a headache coming on. She realized just how serious this was. He wasn't just sick; he was deeply
troubled. Ann quickly switched to her professional mode, engaging Shawn in a therapeutic conversation.
The agitated Shawn slowly calmed down and began to follow Ann's lead. She informed Shawn that his current
mental state was precarious and that he was at high risk of doing something drastic.
Shawn let out a bitter laugh. “To be honest, I've already been there."
Ann frowned.
Shawn murmured, "A few days ago, | tried to end it all, but didn't succeed." As he spoke, Shawn rolled up his
sleeve to reveal the jagged scar on his left wrist. "This scar? It's proof of my love for her."
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