Chapter 221 Laughing Depression
The next day, Arabella set out to visit her aunt. Alexander wanted to go with her, but she firmly refused.
"I haven't told my aunt about getting remarried. She's getting older, and I don't want her to worry. If you came along and I told her the truth, she'd think you don't value me—not even giving me a proper wedding. But if I said you were just my boyfriend, she'd start nagging about when we're getting married and having kids. So it's better if you don't come."
The excuse didn't convince Alexander. He just wanted to be with her. Even if she didn't take him to her aunt's house—even if she made him wait at a hotel—he wouldn't mind.
But Arabella gave him a stern look. "Alex, I'm an adult. I have my own space. You've been too clingy lately."
That one sentence killed Alexander's idea of following her.
She was right. He had been clingy lately—more than before. He couldn't even explain why. It felt like even though she was getting closer to him physically, she was drifting further away. Lately, he kept feeling like she was sand slipping through his fingers, like she might disappear at any moment.
But the feeling was irrational. She was right here beside him. As long as he didn't agree to the divorce, she wouldn't leave him.
Alexander forced down his reluctance and drove Arabella to the train station. He watched her go through security and board the train before turning to leave.
But somehow, his heart felt untethered. All morning, he sat in the living room trying to work, but he couldn't focus. Tasks that normally took an hour dragged on all morning without completion.
Although Alexander had given Arabella her "adult space," he couldn't just let her travel to another city pregnant and alone for two days. So he'd arranged for two bodyguards in the same train car. Now he texted them and learned that Arabella was fine—she'd even napped on the train. Someone had picked her up at the station, and she was already at her aunt's house.
Only then did Alexander relax.
Just then, his phone rang.
It was Frank.
Alexander paused, but eventually answered. "Yes?"
On the other end, Frank's voice sounded subdued. "Alex, I'm taking Tiffany away for a while. We probably won't be back for two or three months."
Alexander gripped his phone, his tone flat. "You don't need to tell me where you're taking her."
"Alex, can't you really... forgive Tiffany?" Frank couldn't help pressing. "She just made a mistake. She explained everything to me..."
"Frank." Alexander cut him off, his quiet voice carrying a warning. "Don't say things like that. I don't want what little goodwill remains between us to completely disappear. You know what that means."
Trying to harm Arabella and his children had seriously crossed his line. If he had evidence, even Frank begging wouldn't spare Tiffany.
On the other end, Frank's face went pale. He knew exactly what it meant. Alex might not acknowledge him as a brother anymore, but the Murphy family's business relationship with the FitzRoy family hadn't been affected. Alex hadn't transferred his anger to the Murphy family. He should be grateful for that.
After a long silence, Frank took a deep breath. "I understand. Alex, there's one more thing I want to tell you."
"Go on."
"It's about Arabella." Frank spoke carefully. "I suspect Arabella has depression."
Alexander's brow furrowed sharply. "Why? She seems fine. She's always smiling. There are no signs of depression."
"There's a type called smiling depression," Frank said. "These patients are too kind—they attack themselves internally instead of lashing out at others. They even worry their condition will affect people around them, so they act like nothing's wrong on the outside. But inside, they're falling apart."
Frank's tone carried uncertainty. "Ever since you told me Arabella admitted she liked you but wouldn't be with you, I thought it was strange. At that dinner, I noticed that while she kept smiling, when things got quiet, there was no light in her eyes. I had my suspicions but couldn't be sure, so I didn't tell you. Alex, you know I'm a surgeon—I might be slightly more perceptive about this than the average person, but I can't diagnose it. It's not my specialty. So I strongly suggest you take Arabella to see someone soon."
Alexander's heart sank. All those vague feelings that something was off—now they finally had an answer.
Frank said he couldn't be certain, but Alexander was already seventy to eighty percent convinced.
"Alex, I have some materials," Frank said. "I'll send them to you. Take a look."
Alexander made a sound of acknowledgment. "I owe you one."
Frank smiled bitterly. "Alex, don't mock me."
But Alexander didn't explain. He had a gut feeling Tiffany was involved somehow—he just hadn't found proof yet. Once he uncovered Tiffany's role, Frank would eventually come back into their circle.
Shortly after hanging up, Alexander received the materials Frank sent. He sat on the sofa and read through them carefully, page by page.
"...a mild endogenous affective disorder in which patients feel deep depression and melancholy internally but appear perfectly normal externally, even smiling..."
"...clinical symptoms include deliberately masking emotions, forced cheerfulness, emotional dysregulation, lack of interest, absence of inner joy. Patients often appear normal in front of others but experience low mood, insomnia, and crying when alone, sometimes even developing thoughts of self-harm..."
"...treatment relies on a combination of medication and psychotherapy. Common medications include... individualized prescription based on patient specifics. Psychotherapy helps patients confront and process internal emotions through listening, comfort, and explanation..."
"...most patients have good prognosis with appropriate treatment, but relapse risk must be monitored..."
"...preventive measures include cultivating a positive attitude toward life, learning to release stress, maintaining a healthy lifestyle, monitoring emotional changes, and seeking help promptly..."
By the time Alexander finished reviewing all the materials, he had a basic understanding of smiling depression.
All that remained in his heart was profound ache.
So while he'd been oblivious, while he'd occasionally felt frustrated by her seeming coldness, she'd been carrying this enormous burden alone.
She didn't lack love for him. She didn't lack courage. She was just sick.
Alexander felt some self-reproach too. He'd already sensed something was wrong but hadn't dug deeper. If Frank hadn't reminded him, he might still not have realized the severity of the situation.
As a husband, he'd failed her.
Alexander quickly collected himself and called Moris. "Find me the best psychologist in Majestic City, especially someone who specializes in smiling depression."
"Also reach out to international experts in psychology. Arrange for them to come as soon as possible."
Moris was on holiday leave, spending time with family. The request struck him as odd. "Mr. FitzRoy, are you having psychological issues?"
He knew it. Workaholics eventually broke down. Mr. FitzRoy worked like an absolute machine.
Alexander's voice dropped. "You asking for trouble?"
Moris shivered. He didn't dare joke around anymore. "I'll contact them right away."
"Also book me a train ticket to the neighboring city and arrange a car there."
"Yes, sir."
Moris worked fast. Half an hour later, Alexander boarded a high-speed train to Jin City.
---
Arabella had already arrived at her aunt's house. Her aunt Anna was in her sixties now. Her husband was a sailor, away most of the year. Her son Mike was already married with a child—he'd been the one who picked Arabella up from the station.
Anna still lived in the old house her husband had bought when he was young. It wasn't as flashy as newer buildings, but the residential compound had been built spaciously—four bedrooms and a living room. Usually Anna lived alone, which felt lonely. But during New Year's, when her son and daughter-in-law brought the grandchild home and Arabella stayed over, the place came alive.
Right now, Arabella was in the kitchen helping Mike's wife Natalie prepare lunch.
Mike and his son were in the living room teaching Anna how to send photos and make payments on WhatsApp.
Natalie was warm and enthusiastic. She only let Arabella wash vegetables—she handled all the cutting and cooking herself.
The two women chatted while working. "Ben's grades are so frustrating. He did fine when he first started first grade, but it's only been two years and now he doesn't seem to know anything!"
Ben was Natalie and Mike's son.
Arabella smiled reassuringly. "Give him time. As long as you build good study habits, his grades will improve eventually."
"I hope so."
Natalie sighed, then looked at Arabella with concern. "How are things with you and Anthony? Still no baby?"
Arabella hadn't told Anna about divorcing, remarrying, and adopting a child. At the time, the marriage to Alexander had just been a mutually beneficial arrangement. She hadn't expected everything that followed.
She was afraid of worrying Anna. Ever since her mother died four years ago, Anna had been depressed. The dead were gone—the living needed to stay strong. She didn't want her aunt spending every day anxious about her.
Now, faced with Natalie's concern, she hesitated, then smiled. "We're fine. Everything's good between us. We adopted a child."
Natalie sighed. "That's good then."
But she thought: if things were really good, why had Anthony never once come back with her? And the baby situation seemed hopeless—now they'd even adopted. She could guess there might be fertility issues.
But since Arabella didn't volunteer more, she didn't want to pry. She just offered comfort. "Don't suffer in silence. If anything happens, tell Mike and me. We might not have the Watson family's power and influence, but if you're being wronged, we can stand up for you."
Something sour stirred in Arabella's chest, but she smiled. "I know. You and Mike are my strongest support."
Seeing her bright smile, Natalie relaxed. "Good. As long as you know."