Chapter 1277
It was only after Lydia came to her senses that she realized she had unconsciously walked toward the window. Her hospital room was on the seventh floor, and the window had no safety bars. Anyone who leaned out too far, with the wrong kind of thoughts, could easily fall to their death. She had unknowingly wandered right up to the edge of something irreversible. But Lydia still felt nothing.
There was no fear, no panic, no relief.
Just emptiness.
She couldn't even remember what she had been thinking or why she had walked to the window in the first place.
Quincy opened his mouth as if to say something but hesitated, swallowing his words. Instead, he offered, "Are you hungry?"
"I brought your favorite chicken soup from the restaurant you love, and some soy milk. Try it, see if it still tastes the same."
The aroma of the chicken soup filled the room, steam rising from the bowl. Lydia used to love it. Quincy still remembered, even after all this time.
She quietly ate while Quincy slipped out to speak with the doctor. His brows furrowed deeply as he explained what he had just witnessed. Lydia seemed so distant and disconnected.
The doctor's expression was grave as he listened. "That's exactly what I was about to discuss with you. Your wife may be experiencing depression."
"Depression?" Quincy echoed, stunned.
"Yes, it's not uncommon, especially in women who have been through childbirth or have experienced pregnancy loss. We often see prenatal depression, and postpartum depression. In Lydia's case, losing the baby could have triggered a depressive episode." Quincy was frozen for a moment. It wasn't that he hadn't heard of depression. It just seemed impossible to connect it with Lydia, the once lively, spirited woman he knew.
But now that he thought about it,
she hadn't been her usual self for a long time. She hadn't raised her voice at him, hadn't demanded. attention the way she used to. She used to be so outspoken, never hoteling back her emotions.
But since they had been together, especially after everything they had been through, she hadn't been her usual self.
A sharp pang of guilt twisted inside him, nearly choking him with its weight. He moved his lips, struggling to speak. "What can I do? How can I help her?"
"Support is crucial. You need to watch her closely, make sure she doesn't have any harmful thoughts."
Quincy left the doctor's office, feeling as if the ground beneath him had become unstable. His steps felt unsteady, like he could collapse at any moment.
The doctor's words echoed in his mind, filling him with dread. When he returned to the room, he pushed those swirling thoughts aside the moment he saw Lydia's face again.
He glanced at the soup, barely touched, and his brows furrowed once more. He wanted to urge her to eat, but remembered her fragile state.
Softening his tone, he said, "You've hardly eaten anything. Please try to have a little more. You need to regain your strength."
"I'm not hungry," Lydia murmured, shaking her head.
Her pale face and pained expression
showed she wasn't lying, and Quincy sighed. He didn't want to push her too hard Alright," he relented. "I'l give you my assistant's number. If you get hungry later, you can call him, and he'll bring you whatever you need."
Since starting his own company, Quincy had hired a personal assistant to help with his busy
schedule Initially, he wanted
someone to care for Lydia during her hospital stay, but when Mrs. Lucy had to take leave, he decided to réty on his assistant instead.
Lydia's lashes fluttered slightly as she glanced at Quincy. Their eyes met for a moment, but she remained silent, saying nothing.
As evening approached, Quincy checked the time. Remembering his prior agreement with his mother, his expression darkened.