Loved You Once But He's My Forever (Chloe) novel Chapter 483

The realization struck me hard—my death was only a minuscule thread in a vast intricate web—too small to stir even the faintest ripple.

In the unseen corners of the world, countless others shared my misfortune. Their ends were as inconspicuous as stray animals struck by passing cars, unnoticed and unremembered.

Millions vanished across the nation every year, and those were just the cases officially reported. How many more disappeared in silence, their absence unacknowledged?

Where did they all go?

I didn't let my thoughts wander too far down that road.

Carter wrapped his arms around me, his voice steady and grounding. "Chloe, you're not a god. You can't save everyone. People have their paths, their destinies."

"I know, Carter. I do," I said, though my voice wavered.

But it wasn't so easy to let go. I could feel the burden pressing down on me. I had been given another chance—a life reclaimed, a man who loved me, moments filled with joy. Yet for so many, death was final. They were erased, leaving no trace of their existence.

"It's late," Carter said, his hand resting on my back. "If not for yourself, rest for the baby. Think about our family, not the whole world."

I nodded, though the heaviness lingered. "Okay. Goodnight."

I clutched his shirt, holding on tightly as if it could anchor me. Silently, I prayed for Taylor.

If he could root out the darkness behind all of this, it might just bring some balance to the chaos.

The next morning, Alisa left early for her prenatal checkup.

I took Whitney to see Sergio.

It wasn't just a performance; she genuinely needed help.

It had been nearly half a year since I last saw him, but Sergio accepted the appointment without hesitation.

When we stepped into his office, it felt as though time had stood still. Everything looked exactly as I remembered. Even the potted plant on his desk sat in the same spot, its leaves positioned identically.

Sergio's precision was no surprise. His obsession with cleanliness and order had been evident during my own therapy sessions. I knew his routines as well as my own.

"Ms. Garder—or should I say Mrs. Bolton now?"

Sergio greeted me with a composed expression, the light catching on his silver-rimmed glasses. His tone was polite, measured, and calm, just as it had always been.

"It's been a while. You still look exactly the same," I said, keeping my tone light.

Even his haircut was perfectly maintained, like it had been trimmed with a ruler.

He adjusted his glasses, his face calm. "The same? We've only met once for a short while."

I almost stumbled but quickly recovered. "I meant that meeting 6 months ago."

He examined me carefully, his gaze unwavering. "You, however, seem to have changed a lot."

His comment threw me off. We weren't close, so why would he say that?

It felt as though he saw right through me, like he knew something I didn't want it to be revealed.

Hoping to steer the conversation away, I gestured toward Whitney. "This is a good friend of mine. Could you run a psychological evaluation for her?"

Sergio nodded without hesitation. "Go ahead to the treatment room. I'll join you shortly."

"Alright."

I led Whitney down the hall with practiced ease, entering a room that felt as familiar as an old photograph. My fingers brushed the Newton's cradle on the desk, the clicking sound of the spheres grounding me.

This office had been my sanctuary for almost 3 years. It carried an air of safety, a place where I could let my guard down for just a moment.

Whitney's voice came quietly. "Did you have an illness before?"

I hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah, I was here for a few years. Dr. Zimmer and I know each other well. Don't worry, he's ... "

She cut me off, her expression serious. "Since you came back... have you visited this place before?"

I shook my head. "No, not once."

Her eyes narrowed, sharp as a knife. "Then how did you know exactly where the treatment room was? No one showed us, and yet you walked straight here. How can you know this place if you've never been here in this life?"

My hand stopped mid-motion, a chill creeping over me. "Are you saying..."

Whitney's voice turned cold, her words pointed. "If Dr. Zimmer is as observant as I think, he might already suspect you."

From the doorway, a voice broke the tension. "Suspect what?"