Bind you in hellbound
Chapter 185: ~Hellbound~

Chapter 185: ~Hellbound~

As I took out an album from the drawer, I couldn’t help but smile warmly at the captured moments within. The images of my baby girl, Paulina, and Elena, my love, held a special place in my heart. The memories were both a solace and a reminder of what I had lost.

"Stupid man, as if I’m waiting for him," I chuckled to myself, my gaze fixed on a picture of Elena. Even in a frozen frame, her beauty and warmth radiated.

"So, how do you talk to people politely?" he questioned, probing into the interpersonal dynamics that shaped Paul’s interactions.

"You two have taken over my life," I admitted softly, my gaze shifting between of Elena and Paulina.

The prospect of reconnecting with my daughter became a beacon of hope, a poignant reminder of the enduring ties that bound me to my past.

"But it’s only a picture," she argued, seemingly unaware of the emotional significance attached to the photographs.

The psychiatrist, adept at unraveling the layers of his patients’ emotions, pressed further.

"Mr. Ethan, tell me about your life," the psychiatrist inquired, inviting Paul to unravel the tapestry of his experiences.

"You’re implying that it’s decent but not great. Ethan, tell me why. Don’t you ever try to hide something from your doctor?"

Paul appeared at the doctor’s office the next morning. The psychiatrist, a perceptive figure, probed into the intricacies of Paul’s life, seeking to understand the layers beneath his composed exterior.

"How about your rage problem, Ethan?" he asked, recognizing that emotions often played a pivotal role in shaping one’s mental state.

"Is everything OK, sir?" Han inquired, his presence bringing a temporary halt to the brewing chaos.

Han demanded as he firmly guided her away from the room.

"Ethan, you did a fantastic job. As a result of the progress you’ve made, we will travel to Spain," he announced, presenting an opportunity for a positive change in scenery.

With a sigh, I gently placed the photo back into the album, determined to preserve the essence of our shared moments.

"Actually, I’d want to go to London to meet my daughter," I explained with a genuine smile, revealing the underlying motivation that fueled my desire for a specific destination.

"Yes, sir," she replied meekly, acknowledging the severity of the situation.

"At the moment, I wanted to kill her," I confessed, the raw honesty of my words hanging in the air.

The maid entered, carrying a tray with a cup of coffee. For the correct order please visit

Paul’s POV.

"You’re a moron, girl," I retorted, trying to convey the seriousness of the situation.

"Come along with me. Who urged you to come here in the first place?"

Han’s POV

"Shut up, it’s his wife and daughter’s pictures," I explained, hoping to make her understand the magnitude of her mistake.

"It’s just fine," Paul asserted, downplaying the significance of a struggle he might not fully comprehend.

"Doctor, am I doing well?" I asked, seeking affirmation and validation for my efforts.

"How dare you?"

"Sir, please," the maid begged, but Han took charge, directing her to leave.

Taking a deep breath, Paul opened up. "Last night, a maid slipped coffee on my baby."

"Here is your coffee, sir," she said, approaching the table where the album lay open.

**

"You’re lucky, sir, that I didn’t kill you," I added, emphasizing the gravity of the offense committed.

However, fate had a different script. In a moment of unfortunate clumsiness, she accidentally spilled the coffee onto one of the cherished pictures in the album. The liquid stained the image, threatening to obscure the captured smiles.

"I apologize, sir," she stammered, her voice trembling with fear.

"I tried," Paul admitted, a subtle acknowledgment of the effort he invested in maintaining a semblance of normalcy.

I sighed, recognizing the delicate nature of my role in his life. It was my responsibility to shield him from unnecessary disturbances, especially those that could trigger emotional distress.

**

"What the heck," I barked aggressively at the maid who had just spilled coffee on the precious photograph. The room, once filled with the warmth of memories, now echoed with tension.

I hesitated for a moment, and then replied, "Yes."

"Yes, I mean in the picture," Paul clarified.

"Then what did you want to do?" the psychiatrist asked, acknowledging the gravity of the moment.

My heart sank as I watched the mishap unfold. The warmth that the memories had brought turned cold in an instant. The maid, realizing her mistake, apologized profusely, her warm smile replaced by anxiety.

I gently placed my hand on Elena’s cheek, a tender gesture that embodied the profound connection we had built over the years.

The psychiatrist, skilled in navigating the nuances of human emotions, delved deeper.

In the quiet solitude of my room, I couldn’t shake off the lingering frustration caused by the maid’s intrusion. The sanctity of my family’s memories had been violated, and the unwelcome disturbance left a bitter taste in my mouth.

Paul, a lingering presence in our lives, was an obstacle I couldn’t ignore. His promises echoed in my mind — assurances that he wouldn’t disrupt the family we had forged together.

Derek’s POV.

"Don’t touch them with your filthy hands," I snapped, my patience wearing thin.

"Yes," said the psychiatrist, offering a reassurance that carried the weight of professional assessment.

"Get that jerk out of here!" I seethed, my anger still palpable.

"Damn that jackass," I muttered, my annoyance evident as I glanced at the now slightly damaged photo. The delicate balance of my emotions, carefully preserved in the images of my wife and daughter, had been disrupted.

"Did you hurt her?" the psychiatrist inquired, delving into the aftermath of the incident.

"Why? I’m an old hunk, but not a terrible companion," he joked, attempting to lighten the mood.

"I didn’t do it. I tried to keep myself cool, Mr. Robin," I replied, emphasizing the restraint I exercised in the face of provocation.

"Everything is OK, doctor," Paul responded, his smile attempting to mask the complexities that lingered beneath the surface.

"In two or three days, papa will come to see you," I murmured, addressing the captured smiles frozen in time.

I hesitated for a moment before expressing a different preference.

**

"My baby," I whispered, cradling the photo in my hands. The anger began to dissipate as I focused on the love emanating from those frozen moments.

"Elena, sometimes the two people who are truly best for each other have to overcome significant obstacles to be together," I reflected, the weight of Paul’s influence hanging in the air.

"No, doctor."

"Sir, may I come in?" a maid’s voice asked.

"I’m not going to let you go in my next life, Elena," I whispered to the photograph, the intensity of my commitment reverberating in the quiet room.

The psychiatrist, now attentive to the gravity of Paul’s revelation, sought clarification. "On your baby?" he inquired, recognizing the symbolic weight behind Paul’s words.

"Please don’t fire me, sir," the maid pleaded desperately.

With a tender kiss to Elena’s forehead, I silently acknowledged the resilience of our love.

"It’s none of your concern. If you wish to stay, keep away from him," I warned, making it clear that any further intrusion into Paul’s private space would not be tolerated.

I traced my fingers over the photographs, reliving the moments that seemed to come alive within the pages. In another lifetime, I might have held them in my arms again, but destiny had other plans.

"Sir," the maid pleaded, but before the situation could escalate further, Han appeared, seemingly out of nowhere.

On the other side of the narrative, I sat on the bed, a poignant moment of reflection as I clutched a photo of Elena to my chest. The depth of my emotions was evident, a silent promise etched in my heart.

I roared, my anger escalating. I couldn’t fathom the audacity of someone intruding into my personal space and carelessly damaging the cherished memories of Elena and Paulina.

"But I never saw them," she claimed, attempting to justify herself.

I observed her cautiously. It was a rare occurrence for anyone, except for Han and Senior Mina, to be granted access to my private space. Today, with Senior Mina absent from work, the maid seemed eager to seize the opportunity.

Despite the unsettling incident, I couldn’t help but yearn for the warmth captured in those pictures.

The psychiatrist, undeterred, addressed a more sensitive topic.

"Get out of here! I don’t want you to be here," I shouted, my frustration pouring out.

"Wonderful," remarked the doctor, smiling at the resilience displayed in the midst of adversity.

A sudden knock on the door disrupted the quietude of the room.

As they left, I took a deep breath, attempting to regain composure.

"I didn’t notice," she added, attempting to rectify her mistake with a tissue.

**

As the maid left the room, I couldn’t help but wonder about Sir’s state of mind. The emotional turmoil he experienced was evident, and I couldn’t rule out the possibility of him struggling with mental health issues.

"For you and our children, I will be a better man."

To be continued.