Rebirth In Divorce: My New Mr. Perfect by Henry Foster

Chapter 382

When Lucy thought she had finally encountered someone normal, the person suddenly snatched her utensils and began speaking to the fork as if it were alive, "Don't worry, buddy. I'm here to save you."

As if possessed, the individual moved from one utensil to the next, speaking to each as if they were old friends.

"Crazy," Lucy muttered under her breath, unable to hold it in.

Such behavior wasn't unusual here.

At dinner, meals were delivered directly by the hospital staff.

Lucy sat quietly on her bed, holding a simple bowl of food. Just as the nurse opened the door to bring in her meal, another figure slipped in behind them.

Lucy glanced up, and her stomach dropped. It was the same person she'd encountered earlier-the one who had spoken to the utensils. And now, he were standing right in her room.

"Get out! Get out of here!" she shouted, her voice trembling. She desperately scanned the room for something, anything, to defend herself, but there was nothing.

The meals were plain and unappetizing-boiled potatoes, overcooked greens, and bland bread rolls. Couldn't they at least serve something better, like a warm vegetable soup or a simple sandwich? Lucy asked the nurse about it, but the response was curt and dismissive.

night came, sleep

of midnight, the ward erupted into chaos. Screams and wails echoed through the halls, the kind that pierced through the thickest walls. It was as if all the patients had agreed to

relentless noise grated on Lucy's nerves. She pressed her hands tightly against her ears, but the shrieking seemed

continued unabated, only tapering off as the first light of dawn began to

silent. Exhausted and drained, Lucy collapsed onto her bed, the chaos fading into a dull memory

returned to work, Mia resumed her

Previously, their sessions focused on Sarah providing psychological counseling for Mia. Now, they were trying

copies of a certain photo and slid one across the table

fragmented memories. Sarah didn't trust her own recollection and instead tried to tap into her subconscious. Occasionally, she looked to Mia,

on an endless ocean. You've made plans to see

shut, answered softly, "With

"What

on a date,"

brow furrowed tightly. She didn't press further; something about

Sarah, then the person Mia envisioned going on a date