~Four weeks later~
The therapist flips ahead a few pages in her notebook and jots down a sentence or two. "I appreciate that you've been coming here for so long after the incident. I think it shows that you really want to make progress."
"Yes, I really do."
"You haven't been having those dreams again?"
"Nope."
"Your eating habits have gone back to normal, right?"
"Yes ma'am."
"Good. The only thing that worries me is that your boyfriend has not stepped into my office even once this past month."
Silence.
"Why is this so? One would think he's the one who needs the help, not you."
"Yes, I know. I suggested counseling, and he turned down the offer. Twenty-three times."
"Twenty-three? Hm…I'll be seeing the both of you next week, same time." She abruptly closes her book and leaves the room.
She remains seated on the sofa for seven more minutes before getting up, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her palms, and slowly walking out of the building.
She opens the door to their flat and calls out, "Honey, I'm home!" She does that every day now, more as a precautionary measure than as an act of affection.
A tall, lanky figure comes striding toward her from the kitchen. "Hey, Claire, darling! Come here!" He pulls her into him, wrapping his warm arms around her waist. He places a peck on her cheek. He pulls away from her, and wrinkles his brows as he observes her.
"Something wrong?"
"Huh? Oh, no, nothing's wrong."
"No, something is wrong. Is it something I did? What did I do? I-I can fix it, I promise, I'll do anyth-"
"No, Martin, no-nothing is wrong. Just…"
"Just what?"
"Just Dr. Mirello. She wants to see us next week. Same time." Claire pushes her way past Martin and heads up the stairs.
"Oh! I see…Dr. Mirell-wait. Claire. Claire! She wants to see…us? Why? Damn, I knew something was wrong, I just knew it!"
Claire stops halfway up the stairs and scrunches her eyes shut. Shit. He noticed the "us" she tried to hide. She turns around to face him. "Y-Yes. Us. Both of us. She was surprised that she hasn't seen you in her office yet, so I've got no choice but to take you to her next week. Please try to come. For me?"
He looks at her, eyes narrowed, fists clenched, back stiff. "F-Fine. For you, I'll go. But just this once." He turns his head away, as if he can't stand the sight of his girlfriend anymore. He mutters under his breath, "I hate it when you decide things for me."
With a scoff, he throws on his scarf and heads out the door, leaving her alone in the flat.