Do You Still Love Me When We Meet Again? (Aubrey and Damon) novel Chapter 169

Chapter 169

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Damon followed the doctor out of the room, but he couldn’t bring himself to pace more than a few feet from the door. He stood in the sterile, quiet corridor, his hands clenched at his sides.

The doctor slipped her hands into the pockets of her white lab coat, her expression heavy with concern. “Mr. Blackwood, since your wife Aubrey woke up, have you noticed anything unusual

“She isn’t crying,” Damon said; his voice tight with anxiety. “She suffers from clinical depression. Usually, she’s so sensitive–she cries at the smallest things.”

“Exactly,” the doctor sighed, her gaze solemn “She’s stopped crying”

“Doctor, is she… is she getting better?” Damon asked, his voice thick with a desperate kind of hope. “She seemed so clear–headed talking to you just now. It’s like she’s finally found some peace, like she’s letting go of the pain”

The doctor shook her head slowly, her expression grim. “No. On the contrary, her condition is actually worsening significantly.”

Damon froze, his dark brows knitting together in disbelief. “That’s impossible. She seemed fine–even better than fine. She was smiling, she was even trying to comfort you.”

When a patient suffering from clinical depression undergoes a massive trauma, the condition can often shift into Bipolar Disorder,” the doctor explained, her voice heavy with the weight of the diagnosis. “It’s a far more volatile and dangerous psychiatric condition. The symptoms are a roller coaster–one moment they’re seemingly at peace, euphoric or hyper–agitated, convinced they’ve moved on. The next, they plummet back into a depression so deep it feels like an abyss they can’t climb out of. The suicide rate for Bipolar Disorder is two to three times higher than that of standard Jepression. Patients often lose their grip on reality, unable to distinguish between their dreams and the waking world. Hallucinations become a real hreat, and she likely won’t even realize what’s happening to her”

Jamon’s heart gave a violent lurch. His legs felt like lead as he stumbled back, his shoulders hitting the cold hospital wall with a dull thud. He slumped over, burying his face in his trembling hands, gasping for air through the suffocating wave of agony crashing over him.

He had spent enough sleepless nights obsessively researching depression to know exactly what Bipolar Disorder meant. He knew the statistics. He knew he darkness that was coming for her.

How did it come to this?” Damon’s voice was a ragged rasp, thin and hollow. His broad shoulders sagged, buckling as if the crushing weight of the vorld had finally settled on them, pinning him down.

As her primary physician, I’ve spent a lot of time working through her psychological history,” the doctor said. “Based on our sessions, I’ve caught limpses into the deepest parts of her soul. This kind of pain wasn’t built overnight; it’s systemic. She was starved for affection as a child. Her mother pent years abusing her under the guise of love.‘ She loved her mother, but she hated her, too. She spent her entire life trying to force her abuser to înally love her back, suppressing every natural instinct just to be the good girl–an obedient victim desperate to please the person hurting her.”

That kind of childhood trauma leaves scars that last a lifetime. It’s the reason why, when she’s faced with an intense, overwhelming love, she’s hit with

profound sense of unworthiness. She feels she has to give something up, to suffer or sacrifice, just to earn the right to be loved. She told me about your breakup years ago. Back then, her self–worth was at rock bottom. She truly believed she didn’t deserve you that because she hadn’t sacrificed nough, she had no right to hold onto your heart, let alone risk ruining your future and your potential.”

The pregnancy… it gave her a sense of worthiness she never had before. Her condition started to improve because she finally felt useful. She felt like he finally had something to offer the people who love her a child. The more you and your family adore the baby in her womb, the more she feels she ctually deserves to be loved. It’s not her fault, Damon. These are seeds planted in her childhood; they’ve long since taken root. They are thorns she can’t just pull out.”

Jamon dropped his hands, his chest heaving with a pain so sharp it felt like a thousand needles were piercing his skin. He let out a heavy, ragged breath,

is eyes stinging and rimmed with a raw, aching red.

He looked at the doctor, his voice thick and strained. “Doctor… is it true? Does she really have bipolar disorder?”

We need to intervene early before it escalates. I can’t be one hundred percent certain yet, but if it truly shifts into bipolar disorder, it becomes incredibly difficult to treat.”

What do I do?” Damon asked, his voice cracking. “How do I help her?”

The doctor continued, her tone somber. “I remember her telling me that since she started working, she’s been pinching every penny. She sent a huge portion of her paycheck to help her father pay off the victim’s medical bills and another portion to her mother for living expenses. She kept barely enough for rent and food. There were days she’d survive on just a couple of plain rolls for breakfast, and other days where she’d only eat one meal. And yet, she never complained. It’s a fractured sense of self. Deep down, she believes that as long as she sacrifices enough, her parents might finally love her a little more. To her, it doesn’t matter if she’s suffering or exhausted–she thinks that’s just the price she has to pay.”

< Chapter 169

Damon looked at her, his brow furrowed in disbelief. “Are you telling me I should am like her parents”

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The doctor nodded solemnly. “Precisely. You have to understand Aubrey’s deep–seated psychological patterns. To someone like Aubrey, that kind of unconditional devotion from you can feel unstable, like she’s living on borrowed time, waiting for the day you realize she isn’t worth it and abandon her. She needs to feel like she’s earning her place, or that she’s truly contributing. You need to learn how to let her feel useful. Demand things–anything. Let her feel like she’s actually contributing something tangible to your life. She needs to believe she’s useful, that she’s providing value, and that she is truly irreplaceable”

“I demand her love every single day,” Damon countered, his voice raw “Tan’t that enough? Isn’t it obvious how much I need her?”

The doctor shook her head. “She loved her parents, too, but they didn’t care about something as abstract as love. To them, love was measured by her obedience, her silence, and how little trouble she caused. They warned results–good grades, help with the housework, and a paycheck to support the family. They defined ‘love‘ through what they could extract from her. It’s a red dynamic, like a victim who has bonded with their abuser. You need

o try demanding things from her in a practical sense–whether it’s in your daily life, your work, or something material. That is how she will find her sense of worth. Otherwise, she’ll just feel like a hollow shell a trophy with no real purpose.”

Damon fell silent. He had everything he could ever want, he was a man who needed nothing. The idea of demanding anything material or practical rom Aubrey felt impossible.

For the first time in his life, he was completely

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Is there any other way?” Damon asked, his voice strained with desperation

There is one way,” the doctor replied. “Help her forget her childhood. Help her forget everything painful from her past so she can finally become a brand–new version of herself.”

Damon let out a hollow, bitter laugh, his eyes stinging with unshed tears. He leaned heavily against the wall, his knuckles turning white as he clenched

is fists in a silent, desperate struggle.

The doctor sighed, offering a sympathetic pat on his shoulder. “She was finally starting to heal because of the pregnancy. But losing the baby… it’s a levastating blow. I just hope she can find the strength to pull through this

With that final thought, the doctor turned and walked away, leaving Damon alone in the silence.

Jamon stared out the window at the end of the long corridor, but the view was a blur. His heart felt as though it were being crushed under the weight of a thousand stones. Exhaustion was etched into every line of his face, and his bloodshot eyes were clouded with a dull, aching misery.

Make Aubrey forget her childhood? Forget every scar the past had carved into her soul?

Wouldn’t that mean forgetting him, too?

Why did this trauma have to sink its claws so deep into her? Why wouldn’t it just let her go?

He realized then that the baby had been her salvation. Their child had come to save her, to heal her…. so why was the world being so cruel?

Why did their baby have to be taken away?

His heavy eyelids slowly fluttered shut as two stray tears escaped, tracking wet paths down his cheeks. His strength gave out entirely. Slumping against he wall, he slid down until he hit the floor, a broken man in an empty hallway.

He pulled his knees to his chest, his arms draped weakly over them, his broad shoulders hunched under a crushing weight of isolation. He let his head hang, his mind racing through every possible path. How could he fix her? How could he cure this sickness without losing the woman he loved in the process?

On the other side of the wall, inside the sterile silence of the hospital room….

Aubrey forced herself upright, wiping away the salt–stains of her tears. Her body felt like lead as she dragged herself into the bathroom, reaching for the fresh toiletries to brush her teeth and wash her face.

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