The response on this story has been so crazy, much more than I thought would happen. Thank you so much, this is great and I hope you like chapter 4 :)
Edward's POV
The restaurant's elegance felt uncomfortable.
It was a place where every detail, from the low amber lighting to the polished black tiled floors, showed class. Even the plants were real which amused me, since most restaurants I've been to lately welcome their fake plants and plastic appeal. Though I hardly had to dress up to the nines for those. I'm not complaining though, it's been a long since I've felt this good in a suit.
I adjusted the crimson collar around my neck, much to the disapproving look of Carlisle as he held the door open for Esme. I chose to ignore him and led my wife through.
It was the perfect restaurant for my father to fit in, yet I felt out of place. I was never one to showcase what money I had. But my parents? They wear it proudly.
Though with Jess beside me, it all felt a little more grounded, a little easier to take in. She looked incredible tonight, her sage-green dress hugging her curves in a way that was breathtaking. The gentle shimmer of the fabric caught the light whenever she moved, drawing mine and everyone else's eyes to her.
I couldn't help but watch her as she made her way from the car to the entrance, her hips swaying gracefully with each step. The white heels she wore added an elegant height, accentuating her already long, slim legs and making her every movement mesmerising. There was an effortless confidence in her walk, a quiet allure that held me like a prisoner.
I all but panted as she shot me a devious wink.
I refocused my attention once we were seated. Soon a waitress approached, her steps slowing as she reached our table. She handed me the drinks menu with a polite smile, and I returned it with a warm, appreciative nod. "Thank you," I said, letting my voice soften slightly. Her cheeks reddened, a hint of a blush surfacing as she quickly dipped her head and turned back toward the bar, her steps just a little quicker than before.
I glanced down at the menu, half-smiling to myself, catching Jess's amused gaze. She raised an eyebrow.
"What do you fancy tonight, love?" I shrugged and leant back in the chair, really craving whiskey, but he detested such a think so I simply chose something else.
"Wine for tonight, dear." Jess nodded and signalled to one of the waiters.
Across the table, Esme was equally captivating. She wore a silver gown, elegant and understated, with intricate beading along the cuffs and neckline that added just a touch of sparkle. The colour highlighted the warmth of her eyes and complemented the soft waves in her auburn hair, which fell gently around her face, giving her an effortless elegance. Carlisle matched her, looking as distinguished as ever in a tailored charcoal suit with subtle pinstripes, his tie a shimmering grey that mirrored Esme's gown, creating a subtle, coordinated look between them.
Together, they radiated the kind of poise and power that seemed to belong no matter which background they found themselves in.
As the evening unfolded, my gaze kept drifting to my wife. I couldn't help but recall the night before, vivid memories of her warmth and gentle caresses. Sitting here now, her fingers lightly brushing against my thigh, sending my thoughts to inappropriate places. Heat crept up my neck and I reached to my thigh to grasp her wandering hand shooting her a subtle look of disbelief.
Really? In front of them?
An eyebrow raised.
Never stopped you before. She quipped, before turning to the waiter. Her fingers tracing gentle patterns along mine as they discussed wine choices. Carlisle, however, cut in decisively, insisting on his preference for the Château Margaux, his voice firm and unmistakably commanding. The poor waiter's face fell slightly, nervousness flashing in his eyes as they nodded.
"Just bring it to the table, please. I'll handle the pouring for my family," he added, his tone bordering on dismissive, making it clear he expected nothing less than his exact order.
The waitress nodded, her smile wavering before she hurried off to retrieve the bottle. I watched her retreating form, feeling a flicker of discomfort at Carlisle's tone. Jess's fingers squeezed mine gently, a little habit we seemed to be developing, bringing my attention back to her, her soft smile grounding me instantly.
"Relax," she whispered, her voice low, as if reading my thoughts.
Carlisle, of course, looked perfectly content, surveying the restaurant with the composed air of someone used to being catered to. Beside him, Esme remained the picture of warmth, nodding politely as she adjusted the elegant cuff of her dress. Her eyes flicked to me with a gentle smile, a quiet reassurance amid Carlisle's dominant presence.
When the wine arrived, Carlisle inspected the bottle with exaggerated precision, nodding approvingly as he took the bottle into his hands. Pouring for each of us, he finally settled back, raising his glass.
"To family," he said, his voice carrying a hint of possessive pride, his eyes moving over each of us in turn. Jess, ever gracious, raised her glass with a soft smile, while Esme beamed with genuine warmth.
"To family," I echoed, feeling the weight of the words.
As she leaned in to speak softly with Esme, I couldn't help but feel a pang of longing, a subtle ache that had me wanting to be alone with her again, away from all of this formality. The pressure. I loved this side of her - the poised, articulate partner - but I was also keenly aware of the woman behind it, the one who had turned to a shaking mess beneath me the other night.
This was our second night with my parents, and though I tried to relax, I constantly felt their eyes on me. In between each subtle silence, like they were calculating their next steps. My father most of all.
As I reached for my glass of wine, Carlisle gave me an approving nod across the table, his gaze sharp and analytical as always, as though he were assessing more than just his son.
"So, son, your wife tells me you've been rather busy recently?" Carlisle said, raising his glass, his voice steady and commanding.
"No more than usual, I like to be kept on my toes, it makes life interesting. Wouldn't you say?" He smirked but said nothing, continuing to sip his wine.
Jess shared a look with, and the small smile that played on her lips made my pulse quicken. She was always so composed, so effortlessly elegant, but in moments like this, there was something deeper; a spark only I knew, a side of her that was purely mine.
"Everything alright?" she murmured, her voice low, just for me.
I nodded, clearing my throat. "Couldn't be better," I replied, offering her a small smile that I hoped didn't give too much away. She looked at me knowingly, as though aware of exactly where my mind had wandered. She brushed her thumb across my knuckles, a subtle but intimate gesture that sent a pulse of warmth through me.
Meanwhile, Carlisle was recounting a story from work, his voice rich with enthusiasm as he described a particularly challenging case. I forced myself to focus, nodding along and making the right sounds, but my mind kept drifting back to Jess, as it had been quite frequently since my parents had arrived. She was my rock amidst their rocky waters. And yet, tonight, there was an undeniable thrill in knowing that we'd leave here together, that soon we'd return to the intimacy of our own space.
Esme leaned forward, her warm gaze catching both Jess and me. "You two look so happy," she said with a smile. "It's wonderful to see." I smiled, she was right.
Jess smiled back, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Thank you, Esme. We really are."
"Aren't they a perfect couple, Carlisle?"
He chuckled.
"No such thing, sweetheart."
Esme merely smiled, "We're so glad you decided to come tonight. It wouldn't be the same without you both. IT's so lovely." She beamed.
I glanced between them, warmth swelling in my chest, and tightened my grip on Jess's hand just a bit. For all the formality and tradition in our family, for all the expectations I felt, having Jess by my side somehow made it all manageable. We didn't need their approval; as long as we had each other, we were more than enough.
Carlisle raised his glass, his eyes twinkling with the kind of humour that only those closest to him could catch. "So, Edward," he said, his tone light but laced with something that made me brace myself, "how's life as a psychiatrist treating you? Still swimming in the deep end of other people's problems?" He smirked, taking a sip of his wine, as if he hadn't just subtly poked fun at my career. Esme cast him a look but said nothing, and sipped water.
I chuckled, doing my best to play along, but his words cut a little close to home. "Every day is a new adventure," I replied smoothly, meeting his gaze with a steady look of my own. Jess's fingers played with mine absentmindedly as she chatted with Esme about some decorating project - something I had little interest in but could see she was enjoying.
As if sensing the turn in conversation, Jess focused back on me and Carlisle, her smile gracious, though I could see the protectiveness in her eyes. She always sensed when a conversation with my father went from playful to pointed, and while she hated it, she remained poised, ever the calm hostess. She held our ground with a quiet elegance. "And Edward's brilliant at what he does," she said with a confident grin, her compliment feeling like a shield. "His patients are lucky to have someone who actually listens." Her fingers gave mine a reassuring squeeze before she grasped her fork again. I made a mental note to thank her for the support when the night was over.
Carlisle's smile widened slightly, a flash of pride mingling with that relentless, discerning gaze of his. "Oh, I have no doubt," he said, glancing from Jess back to me. "But I have to admit, it takes a certain kind of resilience to listen to the nonsensical rambles of the insane."
I felt my jaw tighten, but I kept my voice measured. "My patients aren't 'insane' at all. They're not crazy degenerates. They're people dealing with real pain, devastating traumas that deserve understanding, not dismissal. You'd be surprised by how much it matters to them to have someone to talk to."
Carlisle raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk on his face that made it clear he was enjoying my reaction. "Of course, Edward. I'm sure listening to the endless sob stories can be... fulfilling," he replied, an edge of amusement in his tone that only deepened the strain in my shoulders.
Jess leaned in just slightly, placing her hand gently on my arm, her touch grounding me. "It's not just about listening," she interjected, her voice calm but firm. "Edward helps people find strength when they feel they have none left. That's not easy work. He resolves their issues, helps others find inner strength and courage. I can't say that for anyone else at this table."
Carlisle looked at her, a flash of surprise passing over his face before he masked it with a light shrug. "A noble cause, I'm sure," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand, as if it was all just an abstract idea, something quaint and impractical. "But you know what they say, not everyone is cut out for hands-on work. Some people simply... aren't wired for it."
A prickle of frustration burned in my chest, but I took a steadying breath, determined not to let him rile me further. "Actually," I said, keeping my voice steady, "it takes a certain kind of person to get to the heart of things. Not everything can be solved by a scalpel or a prescription."
Carlisle's smirk softened, his eyes sparkling with a bemused pride as if he'd gotten exactly the reaction he'd been hoping for. "Touché," he replied with a slight nod, his voice thick with amusement. "Well, it's good to know you're still so... passionate."
The tension was palpable, an undercurrent of challenge running between us, but Jess cut in smoothly, her voice light. "Passion's what drives us all, isn't it?" she said, flashing Carlisle a charming smile that defused the moment, if only a little.
Carlisle raised his glass, chuckling as he gave her an approving nod. "Indeed. Passion is everything."
We all took a drink, but Jess's hand was still on my arm, her fingers lingering just long enough to reassure me she understood. And even as the conversation shifted back to safer topics, I felt the current of tension still there, simmering just under the surface, with Carlisle watching me closely, still looking for something I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to give him.
Esme cleared her throat softly, flashing us all her warm, calming smile, the kind that could soothe just about any tense moment. "Well, enough about work for now," she said lightly, her hand resting on Carlisle's arm as if to gently remind him. "Tell me, Jess, have you had a chance to visit any galleries recently? I know you were eyeing that new exhibit downtown."
Esme's suggestion caught Jess's interest, her eyes brightening as she leaned forward. "You know, we haven't actually made it to downtown yet," she said, glancing at me with a small, hopeful smile. "Maybe we'll go together soon, find an afternoon to steal away."
I nodded, appreciating the idea more than I'd expected. "That sounds perfect," I agreed quickly, eager to take her out. "I could use a break from work anyway."
Just then, the soft chime of the restaurant's entrance caught my attention, and I barely glanced up before my gaze froze.
Bella stepped in alongside an older man, chatting quietly, entirely unaware of us. She looked a little out of place, like she hadn't meant to end up somewhere so upscale, and I noticed how her posture was slightly stiff, as though uneasy in the polished, dimly lit ambiance of the room. Not that I expected differently, during our first meeting she constantly looked uneasy, as if she'd be anywhere but with me. Now I can assume that's how she carries herself.
She had on a dark hoodie and ripped jeans, and a coat much larger for her than her figure. I watched the man pat her back before they were ushered to a table.
Jess noticed my shift in focus, following my line of sight toward the entrance. Her curiosity peaked and she shared a subtle look with me.
Carlisle and Esme hadn't noticed amiss, still caught in light conversation or something I'd lost interest in since the mention of the gallery.
My eyes wandered again, and they landed on Bella as she made their way toward a table at the far end of the room, oblivious to us sitting just across the dining area. I watched her sit, stake off her coat and pick up a menu, looking awkward to the man. Who in all honesty, seemed just as uncomfortable as she. I debated if I should make my presence known, or just linger in the dimly lit corner with my family.
I felt… Awkward noticing her like this and when I received a slight tap on my palm I looked up at a distracted Jess, with sparkling eyes.
"So," she said softly, her voice steady, "about that gallery trip… let's make it happen." She smiled. I nodded heartily, wishing to do anything for her. I had been a lover of art once, back in my college days. I was in a band also, I still had my old guitars somewhere, I thought about digging them out often, but felt too rusty to play. I sucked on my bottom lip briefly before deciding that's exactly what I'll do. I'll find them. Maybe they're in storage. I leant on my palm curious where I'd left them.
The evening wore on, the conversation at our table flowing in and out of casual chatter and light-hearted comments. But no matter how much I tried to focus on my family, my attention kept drifting back to Bella. She was still at the table across from me, her movements clunky and tired, her eyes scanning the menu, the man beside her speaking now and then.
I tried to keep my gaze casual, not wanting to draw attention to myself, but something about her had me completely captivated. It was more than just recognition now. There was something about the way she seemed to occupy space, the way she held herself. Like she was floating on the edge of the room, neither fully part of the crowd nor distant from it. I couldn't explain it, but I felt an inexplicable pull toward her.
And then, as if she could feel my eyes on her, Bella's gaze finally shifted in my direction. She didn't say anything, didn't even move her chair, but her eyes found mine with a flicker of recognition. For a moment, everything seemed to freeze, like the noise around us dimmed and time stretched out. Then, to my surprise, her lips curled slightly at the edges, a small, cautious smile.
It wasn't the broad smile I'd seen before. It was smaller, almost shy, as if she hadn't expected to find me here, or maybe even to be noticed at all. Her eyes, too, were filled with a mix of surprise and something else, curiosity, maybe? I couldn't quite tell.
I wasn't sure how to react. Should I wave? Smile back? I hadn't expected her to notice me so alone acknowledge me in such a way. But all I could do was nod gently, offering her a quiet smile in return.
As the evening wrapped up, the atmosphere shifted, the comfortable buzz of the restaurant slowly dissipating. I watched as Esme and Jess walked ahead, talking softly about the evening, while Carlisle led the way toward the door, his usual confident stride steady and sure.
I lingered for a moment, unsure of what I was doing, but I couldn't shake the image of Bella, her slight smile still playing in my mind. There was something about the way she'd looked at me, I'd catch her giving me glances every so often. But as I walked toward the exit, my thoughts were interrupted when I noticed her again.
Bella was standing by the door, hesitating just inside the frame, her eyes scanning the parking lot, perhaps looking for the person she had been with earlier. Her figure stood out, the dark outline of her in the dim light, and as I walked closer, she glanced back up.
She caught my gaze again, and I saw her freeze, almost like she wasn't sure if she should say something or just walk away. It was one of those awkward moments where neither of us knew what to do. But before I could even think of something to say, she stepped toward me, her footsteps quick but careful, like she wasn't sure if she should be doing this at all.
When she reached me, there was a brief silence. She shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, glancing down at her muddy sneakers before meeting my eyes again. For a moment, she didn't say anything, just standing there, almost as if she hadn't planned on speaking at all.
I took a breath, unsure how to break the ice, but I couldn't help but notice how pretty she looked in the soft glow of the streetlights. There was an effortless charm about her, it was quirky, and a little odd, but I noticed it.
"Good evening, Bella," I said, finally breaking the silence. My voice came out a little too casual, but I wasn't sure how else to start. "It's good to see you again."
She gave a small nod, her lips curving into a hesitant smile. "Yeah, you too." Her voice was soft, but there was that same guardedness I'd noticed before, as if she wasn't sure what this was all about.
For a moment, the awkward tension hung between us. I couldn't tell if she felt it too but something about her kept drawing me in.
"Are you doing alright?" I asked, knowing it was a dumb question, but it was all I could think of, and admittedly I was worried about her.
Bella shrugged slightly, her gaze flicking over her shoulder as though checking for the person she'd been with. "It's alright. Uhh I'm staying with my dad now." Ah, so that's who he was.
She gave a small, almost imperceptible laugh, and in that brief moment, I saw a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes before she quickly masked it again.
I nodded, watching her for a second. "I hope it works out for you." I glanced to the side and saw Jess by my car, her arms crossed, patiently waiting. "I should be going," I said, shifting on my feet. "I'll see you next week."
"Sure, sure, Dr Masen. See you then."
I walked over to my car, my thoughts still lingering on the brief exchange with Bella.
As I slid into the driver's seat, Jess was already buckled in, her eyes on me with that look she always wore when she sensed something was off. Her fingers reached out to pull down the little mirror and she reapplied her lip gloss before turning to me fully.
"So, who was that?" she asked, her tone casual, though I could tell she was curious.
I hesitated for a split second before answering, my voice steady.
"She's a patient of mine."
Jess glanced at me, but didn't push. She'd learned not to ask too many questions when it came to my work, and if I didn't offer more, she'd leave it at that. She nodded, as if accepting the answer, and we both fell into an easy silence as I started the car.
As I drove out of the parking lot, I couldn't help myself. I glanced back in the rear view mirror. Bella was still standing there, her figure growing smaller as we drove away. Something about her, something I couldn't explain, had caught my attention in a way I hadn't expected.
I shook it off and turned my attention back to the road, focusing on Jess beside me. But even as I did, my mind wandered back to her.
~ Dr Masen ~
The morning had been slow, with only a few phone calls and emails to sift through before the clock ticked closer to noon. I sat behind my desk, staring at the pile of patient files stacked neatly to one side, but none of them held my focus today.
Instead, my thoughts were plagued by a soft smile and tangled brunette locks.
I had told myself it was just another chance meeting, nothing more than a coincidence. But even as I sat in my office, in the same familiar chair, a sense of unease lingered in the air. It was her eyes, I think, the way they held something I couldn't quite decipher. It wasn't like anything I'd experienced with my other patients.
I glanced at the clock again. Bella was due any minute.
I'd spent enough time as a psychiatrist to know the importance of maintaining boundaries, of keeping professional distance, but something about her - her hesitation, the guarded way she spoke - made it hard to keep that distance. I wasn't supposed to get attached to my patients, especially not emotionally and this soon, but it was impossible not to notice how different she felt compared to anyone else I'd ever seen in my office.
My fingers tapped lightly against the surface of the desk, the steady rhythm keeping me grounded. But even that couldn't quell the sudden restlessness building in my chest.
As I waited, I found myself thinking about how she had looked the night before. Completely out of place, but still composed. The way she had smiled, almost apologetically, as if she were caught off guard by the entire situation.
And now, here I was waiting for her to walk through that door.
I leaned back in my chair, running a hand through my hair, and forced myself to focus on the task at hand. Bella was just a patient. I had to remind myself of that. Just another appointment.
I do this every day.
This shouldn't be any different.
But when the door clicked open, I couldn't help but feel a tense pull.
The door creaked open, and for a brief moment, I wondered if I was imagining the way the air seemed to shift when she stepped inside. Bella. She hesitated for a heartbeat, as if unsure of how to navigate the space, before meeting my gaze.
I straightened, pulling myself back into the role I knew so well. This wasn't about me. It was about her. She was here for a reason, and I had a job to do.
"Hello, Bella," I said, keeping my tone neutral, professional. But even as the words left my mouth, I could feel the weight of the unspoken question hanging in the air. How was she really doing? What was going on behind that guarded exterior?
"Hi," she replied, her voice soft but steady. Her eyes flicked around the room quickly before landing on the chair across from me. There was something in the way she carried herself, a tension in her shoulders that suggested she wasn't entirely comfortable yet. But she was here. That was a start.
I gestured toward the chair. "Please, make yourself comfortable." I wasn't going to rush her and gesture to the chair she used last week. This session was about creating an open space, a safe space, something I'd learned was key over the years.
She nodded, walking over to the chair and sitting down, her hands resting in her lap. She looked around, her gaze flicking briefly to the window, to the lily, before settling back on me. I waited for her to speak first, giving her the space to take the lead.
As she was taking her time, I stood and took the seat opposite, leaning back slightly in the chair and rested my notepad on my thigh. Totally casual.
The silence stretched for a moment before she exhaled softly. "I don't know where to start." She murmured quietly, her voice almost a whisper.
I could hear the uncertainty in her words.
I nodded gently, offering a soft smile. "That's okay. We can take this one step at a time, just like I told you last week." I leaned forward slightly, my tone reassuring.
She met my gaze then, her expression unreadable for a moment before she dropped her eyes to the floor. There was something raw in her silence, something I couldn't quite put my finger on. She fidgeted more so, and gripped the sleeves of a hoodie clearly three sizes too big.
After a long pause, she spoke again, quieter this time. "How should we start this?" She moves her hands in a way to mimic the space in front of her.
And for the first time in this session, I allowed myself to soften just a little. "Wherever you're comfortable," I said, my voice calm, steady. "You don't have to have all the words, Bella. Just start with what's on your mind."
Her gaze flicked up to meet mine, a faint trace of vulnerability in her eyes. And in that moment, I realised that this wasn't just about helping her fix whatever was broken; it was about truly listening, understanding, and being there, no matter how hard that might be.
Bella's next words came slowly, carefully, but they were enough. They were the beginning.
She shifted in her seat, her hands twisting together in her lap, a nervous habit I recognized as she started to open up. It was subtle, but I could see the way her shoulders were stiff, like she was preparing for something difficult. I sat back, giving her space, but I didn't look away. This was her time.
"I've just been... dealing with a lot," she started, her voice low, like she was tasting every word before she said it. "With my mom, my dad... everything. It feels like nothing's ever really... stable, you know? Like everything's always in motion, but never in the right direction."
I nodded. I'd heard variations of that before, and I understood. Stability: it was something everyone wanted, something most people took for granted. But for Bella, it seemed to be something that was always just out of reach.
"I get that," I said quietly, trying to give her some comfort with the simple validation. "It's hard when things feel like they're always changing. But there's no time limit to get everything in order, you have to figure out the steps most beneficial for you and work through them."
She nodded, but didn't respond immediately. The silence hung between us for a beat too long, and I could feel her tension in the air, thick and palpable. I had to wonder how much of her pain she carried with her in silence, hiding it from everyone, maybe even herself.
"I don't know if I'm supposed to be here," she said suddenly, her voice raw with hesitation. "I mean, I don't know if this is even the right place for me. Maybe it's not... Maybe I'm just..." She trailed off, her words lost in the vastness of the room.
I could see her spiralling, the way her thoughts were tumbling over each other, too fast for her to hold onto. But that's what this was about, right? Slowing it down. Helping her organise the chaos inside.
I leant forward, my hands clasping in front of me which drew her attention.
"You have every right to be here. It could be truly beneficial, and I understand the worries surrounding that, but you've made a great step with being consistent. You're here again." I said, my voice steady, offering her something solid to hold onto. "That's the first step. And that's enough."
I could feel her eyes on me then, her gaze still guarded but just a little more open. "It's just... a lot… I'm a lot," she whispered, as if she was unsure whether or not to let that be the whole truth. "I'm trying to figure it all out, but it feels like I'm failing at everything."
Her vulnerability hit me harder than I expected. There was something deeply tragic about the way she spoke, as if she believed she was somehow to blame for the mess her life had become. It made my chest tighten in a way I wasn't prepared for.
"You're not failing," I said softly, leaning forward slightly. "It's okay to feel lost. We all do at some point." I let that hang in the air for a moment, watching her process the words. "It doesn't mean you're failing, it just means you're in a place where things aren't clear. That doesn't have to last forever."
She let out a shaky breath, as though my words had given her a little space to breathe. And I let the silence take over for a moment, giving her time to absorb it.
"I'm here to help," I added gently, my eyes steady on hers. "However long it takes, I'm here to help you figure out how to feel more... grounded. To feel like things can make sense again."
Bella nodded, though she didn't speak for another beat. Her eyes flickered over to the window again, then back to me, her expression softer now, but still hesitant. There was a part of her that wanted to trust me, but another part that was still afraid to open up completely. And I understood that.
"I think I just need to know that there's a way out," she murmured, almost too quietly for me to hear. "A way to... I don't know. Get out of this mess, to unjumble all of the thoughts."she sighs and starts pulling at the stray strands of her hair, her fingers itching to grasp anything. "Like, fuck, I have to start thinking about college, and here I am barely finishing highschool, scraping by with the worthless life..."
I didn't respond right away, just letting her words settle in the room. After a moment, I leaned back in my chair, taking in a slow breath, carefully crafting my next response.
"We can take it one day at a time. Slow the pace down. Just one day, and right now." I said firmly. "But you're already doing the hardest part by just being here. And that's something to hold onto. It's not worthless, your life certainly isn't. Your existence means something. Let's figure this out together, Bella, I truly want to see you come out of this. Will you try it with me?"
She looked at me then, really looked at me, and I could see a flicker of something in her eyes - hope, maybe, or maybe just the smallest trace of relief that someone was taking her seriously, that someone believed things could change.
"I'll try," she said quietly, almost to herself.
"That's all I ask," I replied, offering her a small, reassuring smile.
And with that, I knew we'd made a tiny breakthrough. The road ahead wouldn't be easy, but Bella had taken a step, and that was all that mattered for now.
I shifted in my chair, watching her carefully, my mind still on our phone call from the other day. The things she'd said, the implications, the tension that threaded through her words, it had lingered with me. I needed to understand more. I couldn't ignore the urge to ask, to know what had led her to make the decision to move in with her dad.
"Before we go any further, Bella," I began softly, breaking the silence that had stretched a little too long, "I want to talk about something that's been on my mind. You mentioned the other day that you left your mom's place, but we didn't really get into why. If you're comfortable, would you mind telling me what led up to it? The things that made you decide to move with your dad?"
I leaned forward slightly, keeping my tone gentle but steady, giving her space to speak at her own pace. I didn't want to push her into something she wasn't ready to share, but I needed to understand, needed to know why she'd made such a big decision. Her words had been vague, and as her psychiatrist, it was my job to help her unpack it. But beyond that, I genuinely wanted to help her find some clarity.
Bella hesitated, her fingers twisting in her lap, a familiar sign that she was sorting through her thoughts. She bit her lip, as if carefully weighing what to say. "I- I guess it wasn't really one thing, you know?" she finally said, her voice quiet, like she was still figuring out how she felt. "It's... everything. The arguing, the tension, the way things were never really normal between us. I—I don't even remember the last time we had a real conversation that didn't end in a fight. It just kept building, and I couldn't take it anymore."
I nodded, keeping my gaze gentle and open as I listened. I wanted to say something reassuring, but I knew better than to interrupt. "I understand," I said quietly, hoping to validate her experience.
Her gaze dropped again, her fingers twisting more nervously now, but she continued, her voice strained. "She started yelling at me, and one thing led to another - screaming, and... I threw a plate at her. It shattered, but it shut her up. For about a minute. Then she was cursing again, so I locked myself in the bathroom. Found something sharp, and... yeah."
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I could see the struggle in her eyes, the way her guard was starting to slip as she admitted what had happened. A part of me wanted to reach out, to comfort her, but I knew this was something she needed to process on her own, at least for now. I swallowed hard.
I took a steadying breath before speaking, keeping my voice low and calm. "Bella, I'm really glad you're here. And I want you to know that you're safe, okay?" I leaned in slightly, trying to offer a sense of warmth, of grounding, without pushing too hard. "What you went through - that's a lot to carry. But I can help you through this. I'm here to listen, whenever you're ready to talk about it."
Her eyes flickered up to meet mine, and for a moment, there was a silent acknowledgement of the vulnerability she'd just shared. She nodded faintly, her lips pressed together, and I could see the smallest flicker of trust emerging.
Finally at the end of this chapter! Felt like a long one besties.
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