Loved You Once But He's My Forever (Chloe) novel Chapter 506

The memories of Sergio treating me had long faded, but looking at him now, it felt like he was the one in need of saving.

Answering him wasn't the hard part—I just couldn't afford to provoke him. The safest option was to go along with his emotions. "A lot of things are blurry in my mind. Whether it's you or Carter, both are just names to me now. To me, you're simply my psychiatrist."

I carefully withdrew my hand from his and placed it on my swollen belly. "Right now, all I care about is bringing my children into this world safely."

He seemed content with my response, perhaps because it meant he and Carter were on equal footing.

"I get it, Coco. I won't hurt you. I just want a fair chance," he said.

Sergio slowly stood up, switched on the bedside lamp, and locked eyes with me. "I was the one who met you first."

Curiosity stirred within me. There was something I likely hadn't known before losing my memory.

I adjusted my position, letting him pull the blanket over me.

In moments like those, his presence felt oddly reassuring. At least compared to the couple downstairs, he seemed more dependable.

He locked the door, pulled out a blanket, and effortlessly set up a bed on the floor, just as he had done before.

Sergio was attractive and elegant—the kind of man who could have any woman he wanted. So why go to such extremes to kidnap a pregnant, married woman like me?

Some might call him unhinged, but he had always taken good care of me and had never done anything questionable.

It wasn't until he drifted off to sleep and turned off the lights that I finally said, "Let's talk about the past—tell me why you like me."

"Alright." His voice was smooth, carrying the warmth of a late-night radio host recounting a story.

"At first, you were just another patient to me. The first time we met, you walked in wearing a tailored suit, two-inch heels, and carrying a briefcase. You didn't look like someone seeking therapy—you seemed more like you were there to negotiate."

His words painted a vivid picture in my mind.

"I've met many patients, but none quite like you. You were composed, articulate, and your eyes were clear—there was no obvious sign of depression."

"Really?" I murmured, trying to recall what I had been thinking that day.

"But after running some tests, I realized your condition was far from ordinary. Not only were you struggling with an illness, but you also had bipolar disorder.

"You were trapped in an endless void, unable to see even a sliver of light. Yet, despite all that pain, you never held resentment. You never blamed those who had hurt you. You fought through it, covered in wounds, and still found the strength to bring warmth to the children at the orphanage.

"I was intrigued. At first, I observed you purely out of curiosity.

"I grew up witnessing the darkest aspects of people, believing that genuine kindness was non-existent. Most with depression withdraw from the world, struggle with emotional instability, and sometimes lash out or resort to self-harm.