F4F You’ve been seeing her for a while now… the therapist that lives at the end of the road. She’s calm, collected, and a bit too understanding. At first, you thought nothing of it. She’s just doing her job, right? Listening, guiding you through your emotions with that steady, confident voice. But lately, something’s shifted. It’s the way she watches you, how she catches every flicker of hesitation, every breath you hold in. The way she waits, silent, patient, when you try to avoid a question, knowing you’ll break before she does. Her words don’t just guide you; they corner you. There’s no escape from the things she makes you face. “Say it,” she tells you. And you do. You always do. It should make you uneasy. Maybe it does. But it also makes your heart race, your skin heat under her look. There’s something dark in the ways he sees you, something dangerous in how easily she pulls apart your defenses. And then, suddenly.... it’s over. She tells you she can’t be your therapist anymore. No explanation, no real reason, just a clean break, leaving you with nothing but a silence she used to fill. But it doesn’t feel clean, does it? Not when you know where to find her. Not when you’re still thinking about her, still feeling the weight of everything she left in your head. You tell yourself you just need closure. Just a conversation. That’s all. Nothing more. So you go to her. You knock. And when she opens the door… You realize you were just lying to yourself.....