Darling, Please Love Me Again! (Gisele Meyer)

Chapter 95

Especially since the woman in front of him was still the one Aspen loved.

With a swift motion, he grabbed Sierra’s hand and forcefully pulled her into the car.

Despite her resistance, Sierra eventually relented and got into the vehicle. As she caught a whiff of Gisele’s faint herbal scent lingering in the car, a hint of jealousy flashed in her eyes.

Despite Sierra being constantly surrounded by men, this time it felt like Gisele was competing with her!

Even with men she didn’t desire, she wouldn’t let them be captivated by Gisele.

“Aspen, I was upset when I saw Don leave earlier, so please don’t take what I said to heart,” Sierra said softly, her gaze meeting Aspen’s with a coquettish smile.

Focused on the road, Aspen occasionally felt Sierra’s delicate hand brushing against his own.

“I haven’t taken it to heart,” he replied with a gentle smile, his expression remaining unchanged.

Despite Aspen’s reassurance, Sierra found herself torn between belief and doubt.

As she reminisced about their shared childhood memories, a wistful expression adorned her face. “Aspen, we’re still good friends, aren’t we?”

Aspen’s bright smile faltered briefly at her words, and he spoke firmly, “Sierra, you know that being just your friend has never been what I wanted.”

Upon hearing this, Sierra’s attempts to manipulate Aspen’s thoughts dissolved instantly.

She had assumed he would agree with everything she said earlier, believing he would unquestioningly be her sidekick and support her in everything she did.

However, she didn’t expect his rejection.

Sierra remained silent, quietly gazing ahead. She couldn’t help but wonder what Dorian and Gisele might be doing at that moment.

Meanwhile, Gisele, who had been brought back to Jefferson Manor, had already drifted into a peaceful sleep after Eric administered a sedative.

Gisele’s tranquil face was streaked with tears, her neatly manicured nails bearing stains of blood. Despite her soft and flawless skin, her arms bore several scratches.

After rinsing with disinfectant, a pink hue became faintly visible on her delicate skin–a

subtle testament to the force Gisele had exerted on herself.

Seeing that Gisele was alright, Dorian finally left the room.

“Mr. Jefferson, Ms. Gisele is not in any serious condition, but she is experiencing post- traumatic stress disorder. To fully recover, she may require ongoing treatment,” Eric explained truthfully.

Treating post–traumatic stress disorder comprehensively was indeed challenging, as many patients often experience the onset of severe mental disorders due to recurring symptoms.

Some may even develop dissociative identity disorder, leading to the formation of multiple personalities.

Dorian wasn’t naive; he quickly grasped Eric’s implications.

It appeared that Gisele’s post–traumatic stress reaction was likely triggered on the first night of recording.

“I understand,” Dorian nodded, then headed into the study.

Eric had planned to discuss the treatment for Gisele’s condition, but sensing Dorian’s lack of interest, he decided not to press the topic.

Upon waking from her slumber, Gisele felt like a drowning person who had been rescued and brought to shore–drowsy and disoriented in the dimly lit surroundings. Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.

Outside, the streetlights on the balcony cast their glow, accompanied by a crescent moon hanging in the dark sky.

All of a sudden, Gisele sensed something beneath her foot on the bed.

In the subdued light, she carefully tried to make out the object.

However, before she could identify it, a small creature hopped onto the bed and began to rub against her with its soft body, emitting faint purring sounds.

“Hello, Sesame,” Gisele murmured as she cradled the cat in her arms. Leaning against the headboard, she gazed out at the scenery beyond the balcony.

With a gentle touch, she stroked Sesame’s head and whispered, “Sesame, do you miss Peanut? Peanut must be there…”

At that moment, a sharp “Bang!” echoed from the door, accompanied by a sudden “clatter” as the room’s light flickered on.

Standing in the doorway, Dorian wore a solemn expression, a spilled bowl of soup at his feet.

Gisele furrowed her brow in response. Was he trying to bring her soup?