Her Patient Confessed His Love in their Secret Therapy Sessions

When Michelle spoke those words, she had already braced herself for the consequences—even if it meant paying the penalty for breaking the contract, she was determined to walk away.

But just at that critical moment, a staff member rushed over, inserting herself between them.

“Ma’am, do you need any help? Why don’t I take you to get this taken care of first?”

Her resolve, so fierce a second ago, faltered. Letting out a soundless sigh, Michelle turned and followed the staff away.

As they tended to her, she stared at her reddened arm, covered in marks and bruises—remnants left behind by Stuart.

And when her mind replayed the image of him earlier, shielding Janet with such nervous protectiveness, the sense of contrast cut Michelle even deeper. Everything felt different now, and she could only laugh at herself for being so pitiful.

By the time she returned to the lounge, her boarding time had already passed.

She thought perhaps that spared her from following any further. Yet Leo, Stuart’s assistant, sent a message. It was a reminder that, in no uncertain terms, she had to go.

Reading the implicit threat between the lines, Michelle closed her eyes. Her fingernails dug deep into her palms before finally loosening in helpless surrender.

After a long round of delays and setbacks, she finally made it.

That night, weighed down by unspoken worries, with her arm throbbing and her head heavy, she finally felt a trace of drowsiness. But just as sleep was about to claim her, a message from Janet popped up.

[Go buy emergency contraceptives. Bring them to my room immediately.]

It started again. This was always how Janet liked to assert her dominance—her claim over Stuart.

‘But really, who am I to threaten her? After all, as everyone said, I’m nothing more than a glorified assistant, nanny, and housekeeper.’

Thinking that, Michelle drew in a deep breath.

“Half a month. That’s all that’s left. Just ten-odd days. Better to avoid unnecessary trouble.”

When she returned with the pills, Stuart and Janet still weren’t finished.

The message she sent to inform them went unanswered. She stood quietly outside their room, unbothered by the ambiguous sounds drifting out from within. Her gaze, instead, fixed on the items she had carefully prepared for Stuart—tossed carelessly outside the door.

For years, Stuart had battled severe insomnia, and Michelle had become his so-called “human sleeping pill.”

But she had no miraculous ability. It was simply her genuine devotion—her painstaking effort in tending to every small detail.

The soft glow of the bedside lamp… The cedar-scented candle he favored… Even the sleep-aid essential oils she had searched tirelessly to find.

Now, with Janet back at his side and their broken relationship seemingly mended, those things no longer held any value in his eyes.

Lowering her gaze, Michelle was about to leave the pills outside and quietly slip away when the door suddenly swung open.

Before she could react, Janet slapped her hard across the face. Stuart leaned lazily against the bed, watching.

“What are you doing standing out here? Eavesdropping on us?” Janet sneered.

Without waiting for an answer, she yanked Michelle into the room, snatched the pills from her hands, and turned the situation around with a feigned look of shock.

“Contraceptives? Stuart, see? I told you this woman had ulterior motives—she can’t stand to see us happy!”

Michelle merely looked at her calmly, her expression unreadable. Out of old habits, her mind almost slipped into clinical assessment.

‘Is Janet suffering from anxious attachment? Jealous delusions? Or perhaps, like Stuart, a paranoid personality?’

Her thoughts were cut short when Stuart finally spoke.

“Apologize to her.”

Michelle froze, staring at him in disbelief. But there he was, his arm wrapped tenderly around Janet, his voice soft as he soothed her.

When Michelle remained silent, his eyes hardened with impatience, his tone turning cold as he repeated, “I told you to apologize to her.”

Seeing the smug triumph on Janet’s face, Michelle couldn’t stop herself from whispering a rebuttal.

“She was the one who sent me here. She asked me to buy the contraceptive. Why should I apologize?”

The only answer she received was the heavy object Stuart hurled at her.

The ashtray struck her squarely on the forehead. The force sent her sprawling to the floor as her skull rang with a deafening buzz.

“Get out,” Stuart’s voice came sharp and low. “Don’t be an eyesore here.”

Blood trickled down, blurring her vision, yet she could still make out Stuart’s figure—holding Janet close, speaking to her in gentle reassurance after the loud crash had startled her. His concern, his tenderness, was all directed solely at her.

Not once did he look at Michelle.

Her heart clenched painfully, as if someone were squeezing the very breath out of her chest.

But in the end, she forced herself to rise, and without a single glance back, she left the room.