My Mafia Husband Tried To Cure Me With My Friend, Now He Regrets Everything

I was drenched in cold sweat, looking utterly miserable, as if I had just been pulled out of a pool of water.

Alice doubled over laughing.

“Oh my God, Monica, you’re way too easily scared.”

Andre held up his phone, and on the screen, my brother Joey wore a cold, stern expression.

“Look at yourself. You’re thirty years old, yet you still can’t face the trauma from your childhood.”

“You should be grateful Andre doesn’t mind putting up with you.”

Andre quickly spoke to him through the screen.

“Don’t say that. Monica just needs more time.”

“Time? It’s been five years. If you keep indulging her, she’ll never get better.”

Joey let out a cold snort.

I knelt on the floor, blood trickling down from my forehead as dizziness washed over me.

Andre crouched down and reached out to help me.

I pushed his hand away.

My palms were stained bright red with blood, and there was blood and torn flesh beneath my fingernails from where I had clawed at my own arm during the panic attack.

“Next time, we’ll make it an hour. We have to take it step by step—that’s exactly what my textbook says.”

Joey answered from the phone.

“Fine. You two handle it. Just don’t take it too far.”

Then I heard the call end.

Using the wall for support, I made my way toward the bathroom one step at a time.

As the hot water poured over my body, I suddenly remembered how Andre had proposed to me five years ago.

Andre had dropped to one knee, slipped the ring onto my finger, kissed my hand, then looked up at me with his eyes curved into a smile.

“I’ll shield you from all the noise in the world.”

At that moment, I thought I would never be trapped by fear again for the rest of my life.

Until today.

For the first time in five years, I began to feel afraid again.

I stayed under the shower for a long time, so long that the water heater eventually started running cold.

When I came out, all the speakers had been put away again.

Andre was waiting outside the bedroom door with a cup of warm milk in his hand.

“Monica, you did well today.”

His gaze was sincere, and his voice was gentle.

“Alice said your reaction was milder than expected, which means you’re making progress.”

He held the cup out to me.

I didn’t take it.

Andre leaned against the doorframe behind me, his tone casual.

“Are you angry with me?”

“No.”

I paused.

“Last month, my noise-canceling headphones were replaced with headphones that played loud noises.”

“Last week, the driver took me to a bar.”

“You arranged all of that, didn’t you?”

Andre was silent for two seconds.

“Alice said we should start with low-intensity exposure… You didn’t react that badly at the time…”

“Then what step was today’s rock music?”

He set the glass down, walked over, and placed his hands on my shoulders, his expression earnest.

“Monica, I know you’re afraid, but you can’t live like this forever. You can’t expect everyone to accommodate you for the rest of your life.”

“Alice is trained in this, at least. It’s better than you constantly running away from it.”

Before I could say anything, Alice’s voice came from downstairs.

“Monica! I’m heading out!”

“We’ll keep going next week, okay? You lasted half an hour this time. That’s amazing!”

The sound of her high heels gradually faded away.

The entire house fell silent.