Billionaire, Let's Divorce! by BELLA

DENNIS

After a few weeks, when I didn't hear any sound coming from Amie's room anymore, I knew that something was wrong.

I didn't hesitate to force the door to open and I found her unconscious. Around her were bottles of water and so much junk food that I suspected that she must have sneaked out to get them whenever I was asleep. There were also the crumbs of toasts and boxes of pizza that I slid into the room from underneath the door. I guess they hadn't been enough.

I quickly took her in my arms, strapped Justin in the baby car seat and rushed her to the hospital.

After about an hour after she was taken in, the doctor came out. "She's extremely lucky that you brought her in on time."

I wiped my hands over my face in relief, glad that this wasn't another announcement about a death.

"Right now, she suffered from severe dehydration, low blood sugar, and organ strain. If you hadn't found her on time, we'd be talking about extreme fatigue, organ failure, and possible psychological trauma right now."

I should have broken the door earlier than this, those were the words that came to me. I should have forced her out and force fed her. I just thought she needed the time to grieve alone.

"So she'd have to remain here for a few days as we'd address her dehydration, stabilize electrolytes, and manage potential organ damage."

Just then, Justin let out a coo in the baby carrier I had strapped to my front as I waited for the doctor. I looked down and found him awake.

"Thank you, doctor," I told the doctor and then we walked to his office as he gave details of Ana's stay at the hospital and further instructions.

.

After a week, Amie returned home. For the first couple of days after she returned from hospital, she seemed fine. She smiled a number of times and ate enough food and drank a lot.

getting better, until the day I caught her clumsily attempting to

few minutes to collect the lunch I

and was frantically

And that was when I knew

them my way or at the wall as she screamed. Then she curled

anymore. She cried all day and threw food on

shaking her head as she laughed. "Amie is so funny." Or her lips would be turned down, tears rolling down her face,

caught her with a knife as she frantically tried to cut herself. Thankfully, she was using the blunt side, so the blade didn't cut

knife out of her grip. And she began to yell again. It was now her thing. If she didn't yell at me, she'd

me alone, you wicked man," she screamed in my face. "Since you don't love her, I

the hardest decision of my life. For her and Justin's safety, as there were als times she'd look down at

sleep, I picked up my phone and dialed the

voice answered immediately,

my throat. "She's been hurting herself, and..." I trailed off, looking down at my

her the information, my hands trembling as

shown?" she asked, her

to find the right words. "She's been... withdrawing. She lashes out for

a pause

It sounds like

a mental health crisis, sir. We recommend getting her to a psychiatric

vel.

immediate evaluation and care."

I answered, wondering if I was doing