Sweat beaded on her forehead as she forced herself to go inside.
Fu Jingsheng was next to her and saw the woman's deathly pale face.
"Are you feeling unwell? Don't worry, they've hidden themselves; there's no danger," the man reassured him.
Rong Yan's steps grew heavier and heavier.
Finally, my legs gave way as I walked through the grove of trees.
She sat on the ground.
The dense tree branches looked like a giant pot over her head. Looking back, all she could see was darkness, making it hard for her to breathe.
The woman hugged her knees with both hands, burying her head between them.
"Rong Yan, Rong Yan." Fu Jingsheng squatted down beside her and gently tugged at her trembling hand. "Are you feeling unwell?"
Rong Yan broke out in a cold sweat and couldn't utter a single word.
"I'll take you to the hospital." Fu Jingsheng only realized when he picked up the woman that she was trembling all over and her hands were very cold.
That evening, at the private hospital invested in by the Fu family.
After divorcing Fu Jingsheng, Rong Yan never came to this hospital again, but her old records were still kept.
Du Yu knew about Rong Yan's situation. He provided her with psychological counseling and gave her some medication and rest.
Finally, he called Fu Jingsheng aside and asked, "Mr. Fu, your wife has a severe case of claustrophobia. Has she not received any treatment all these years?"
Du Yu was once Rong Yan's classmate.
Even though Fu Jingsheng and Rong Yan had divorced, he still habitually called Rong Yan "Mrs."
Fu Jingsheng looked at Du Yu incredulously: "Is claustrophobia hereditary?"
"It's not a hereditary disease, but my wife has suffered from claustrophobia for over ten years. This disease is potentially curable, but if she cooperates with the treatment, why has it gotten worse? Did she have a relapse recently?"
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