Adrian sat in Dr. Reeves's office for his weekly session, feeling more raw than usual.
The room was familiar now—soft lighting, comfortable chairs, the small table with a box of tissues that Adrian had used more than he'd like to admit. But today, everything felt heavier. Like the air itself was pressing down on him.
Dr. Reeves waited patiently, pen poised over her notebook. She never pushed. Just created space for Adrian to fill.
"Tell me about this week," she prompted gently.
Adrian took a breath. "It's been—a lot. Good, mostly. But a lot."
"Start wherever feels right."
"Dante and I have been having coffee every day. Sometimes twice a day. We're talking. Really talking. Being honest about what we're feeling and what we need."
"That sounds positive."
"It is. It's just—" Adrian struggled to find words. "It's also terrifying. Every time we're together, I feel like I'm walking a tightrope. Between being honest and overwhelming him with how much I need him."
