Chapter 6

I was sleepless all night.

The next day, I returned to the hospital for work, my face showing my exhaustion.

I didn't expect that my first patient would be Liam.

He was clearly in a bad mood, and when he entered, he didn't seem to recognize me. He sat down and stated his situation in a deep voice.

“Two years ago, I had an illness, lost my memory, and forgot everything before that.

“I want to recover my memory through therapy.”

My hand trembled, and the mouse dropped to the floor.

In three years, I had never been so flustered.

Liam looked at me, a suspicious expression on his face.

He still hadn’t recognized me.

I fumbled to pick up the mouse, and when I spoke, I realized I’d said the wrong thing.

“You… you can try hypnotic therapy to recover.”

Even if I didn’t take him, he would still go to another doctor.

After a routine inquiry, I led him into the hypnosis room.

Liam lay down on the couch, and under my guidance, slowly entered a hypnotic state.

I watched his peaceful sleeping face.

His brows and eyes, the mole at the corner of his eye, the scar near the ear bone on his profile.

Every single detail had long been etched into my heart.

It had been too long, far too long, since I’d been able to truly look at him.

That face, like a devil's snare, slowly awakened the deepest, darkest desires within me.

The moment I spoke, I committed a cardinal sin for any psychologist.

“Mr. Miller, how did you and your fiancée come to be together?”

The hypnotized Liam was unusually cooperative.

“She’s my fiancée. Six months ago, I fell for her at first sight.

“The moment I saw her, I felt she was the one I’d been searching for.”

I thought of his fiancée’s face, and suddenly my breath caught in my throat.

That face bore a striking seven-tenths resemblance to mine.

So I couldn’t help but ask more questions I shouldn't have.

As for what happened two years ago, I didn't mention a word.

Because I had no intention of helping Liam recover his memory.

After the hypnotic session, Liam was asleep.

I looked at him, finally daring to softly reveal the dark secret of my heart: “What am I going to do? I still love you so much.”

He slept soundly, unable to hear my words.

His left hand lay by his side, the missing two fingers a jarring sight.

I sat by the bed, watching, and couldn't resist reaching out to touch the area where his fingers were gone.

My eyes burned with a sudden, uncontrollable ache.

I softly murmured, “It must have hurt terribly.”

My outstretched hand was suddenly grabbed by his.