The President’s Stubborn Love

In the sunshine, Monica is dressed in a soft fabric dress, with her long hair draped over her shoulders, and her whole persona gives off a very serene and gentle feeling.

She heard Aaron call out to her, looked back, froze slightly, and then broke into a smile, “Brother.”

Sherry’s hands were plucked cold.

She hid behind the column, not daring to be seen by Monica.

Aaron wasn’t the only one who hated her, and she hated herself.

On the lawn, the man kneels before the girl, his smile gentle and his gaze clear.

If only nothing had happened, Monica would have been the most beloved princess in the world, and although their brother and sister had no parents, Aaron would have done everything to protect Monica.

Unlike Sherry, she has no one to protect her, and she has to clean up her family’s mess.

Sherry’s tears fell silently.

“I’m sorry, Monica.”

But she didn’t notice someone approaching behind her.

Her head was violently smashed, followed by a cacophony of noises before she was carried overhead by several people with mental health conditions together.

They shouted gleefully, “Burn her!”

They were already mentally unstable, very easily agitated, and living entirely in their fantasies, seeing Sherry as their prey.

Just as Sherry was being carried away, Monica heard a noise and looked over, “Brother, what’s going on over there?”

Aaron’s brow furrowed, “Not a problem.”

These are the things Sherry should have to endure, and the woman is used to being tossed around anyway, so it’s good that she can’t die.

Monica nodded lightly, her gaze retracting from Sherry’s figure, “I also thought there was something familiar about that man.”

Aaron was excited and immediately tugged on Monica’s hand, “Monica, you remembered?”

After that incident, Monica had problems with her memory; at its worst, she couldn’t even remember who Aaron was.

After two years of treatment abroad and then back here to heal, she is still stable, but she just doesn’t know anyone but Aaron and can’t even remember Nola’s name and has to ask who she is every time.

But she felt familiar with Sherry!

Monica cocked her head, crystal clear white face, and blinked slightly, “Just …”

She did look like she was trying to think of something.

Aaron immediately told the caregiver, “Take care of her.”

Then he made a mad dash towards the men.

He will let Sherry go for a while as long as he can make Monica well.

Monica smiled back, “My brother is not as cold as he seems, is he?”

Aidan, the carer, whispered to her and asked, “Miss, you just lied to Mr. Swift, didn’t you?”

Monica immediately looked at her, her expression off again, “What’s a lie?”

Aidan realized he was talking too much and said, “Nothing, miss, eat the fruit.”Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

Monica lifted herself on her toes, took a bunch of grapes, and ate them slowly.

Aaron chased him out and heckled the crazies.

“Let her go.”

He was there just in time; Sherry’s clothes hadn’t been completely shredded, and the man hadn’t been set on fire.

Although the wood over there had been set alight, she was covered in various scratches and bruises.

She had no time to thank Aaron before he picked her up the next second.

Half-heartedly, he pulled her out straight away as if she were a pet, “Come on.”

Sherry tugged at the clothes on her body, her emotions tumbling as she looked at the man’s side, fear spreading through her heart instead of emotion.

Aaron never really needed her.

Either venting or tormenting.

Her hands began to grow cold and she tugged at her collar, “Where are you taking me?”

Her voice was even trembling.

Of course, Aaron wouldn’t answer her; he’d just yank her wrist harder than the lunatics, almost breaking it in pain.

The next second, Sherry was pushed onto the lawn.

She was barefoot, the stones under her feet stabbing her raw and her eyes tearing up.

“Monica, look at her. Do you remember?” At Aaron’s words, Monica, standing in front of them, stopped eating her fruit and slowly turned her head.

Those dark eyes reflected Sherry’s panicked face.

She was so cold that even her breathing nearly stopped.

Behind her, Aaron soothed Monica gently in a gentle tone he had never used with her, “It’s okay; take your time to think.”

He took a step towards Monica, brushing past Sherry without forgetting to push her forward.

It was such a staggering two steps that the gravel abraded Sherry’s foot.

Blood stained the blades of grass beneath her feet, but her heart hurt more than the dripping blood.

Doesn’t Monica remember her?

What is she going to do?

What will it take for Monica to recover and for Aaron not to hate her?

Her guilty heart felt as if Aaron had put it on fire when she was so dryly thrown in front of Monica when Sherry was unprepared.

She was both looking forward to Monica’s answer and ashamed that she didn’t deserve to hear it.

On the other hand, Aaron had his whole heart hanging in the air, waiting for Monica’s answer.

Monica blinked, her long beautiful lashes fluttering, “Brother, I want to go to bed.”

She said and stretched out, curling up in Aaron’s arms like a puppy.

Aaron finally sighed, picked her up, and headed for the ward.

He ignored Sherry from that moment on.

The nurses all gave Sherry a sympathetic look and walked away.

A wind blew across the large lawn, and Sherry’s single, thin body crouched slowly as she wrapped her arms around her knees and whimpered.

If possible, she would say it was herself who was ‘locked up here!

Sherry didn’t know how long she had been crying; all she knew was that she had walked out, carrying her torn clothes, to the jeering eyes of the lunatics and the staff.

On the other hand, Aaron was left alone long after accompanying Monica.

By now, it was getting late, and Sherry was looking at the distant twists and turns of the mountain road with a sad look.

The door opened once again, and it was Monica’s carer who came out.

She looked at Sherry, hesitantly stepped forward, and said, “This is what Monica told me to give you, so wear it back.”

She was carrying a pair of shoes in her hand, and a trench coat, a style Monica would have liked, with a faint scent of gardenia.

Sherry shuddered, and a light tinged the bottom of her eyes, “Did she remember me?”

If so, the guilt she felt inside would be lessened a little.

The carer shook his head regretfully.

“Monica has never been interested in outsiders since she’s been here, you’re the first, and maybe, she’ll be okay.” The carer finished, closed the door, and went back.

Sherry clutched the object in her hand.

Chaotically shaking his head, “It’s a good thing she can’t think about it …”

At least there was no need to hate anyone or be haunted by nightmares day and night like she was.