---- Chapter 11 Ariel Payne POV: The days were getting better, but the nights were still haunted. | would wake up in a cold sweat, the phantom feel of ropes on my wrists and the sound of Desmond's voice choosing her, not me, echoing in my ears. | tried to push the memories away, to focus on my new life, on the future. But the past had its claws in me, a persistent ghost | couldn' t seem to shake. One morning, after a particularly bad night, Evelena found me in the kitchen, staring into a cup of coffee | hadn' t touched, dark circles under my eyes. She didn' t say anything. She just picked up her phone and made an appointment. "You' re going to see someone," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "A therapist. He' s the best in the city." The therapist' s office was not what | expected. It was bright and airy, filled with plants and comfortable-looking armchairs. And the therapist himself... he was young, maybe a few years older than me, with kind, warm eyes and a gentle smile that made me feel instantly at ease. He was, to put it simply, beautiful. ---- "Ariel?" he said, his voice as warm as his eyes. "I'm Dr. Alan Mcdaniel. Please, come in." He didn' t start with the usual "So, what brings you here?" Instead, he offered me a drink. "Coffee? Tea? Water?" he asked, gesturing to a small kitchenette in the corner of his office. "Just water, thank you," | said quietly. He handed me a glass, his fingers brushing mine for a fleeting second. A tiny, unexpected spark shot up my arm. He settled into the chair across from me. "So," he began, leaning forward witha conspiratorial smile. "What's your sign?" | blinked, taken aback. "My... my sign?" "Zodiac sign," he clarified. "I find it tells me more about a person than any diagnostic manual." A small, surprised laugh escaped my lips. "I'm a Pisces." His eyes lit up. "Ah, a Pisces! The dreamer. The empath. You feel everything so deeply, don' t you? You absorb the emotions of others like a sponge. It' s a beautiful quality, but it can be a heavy burden to carry." We spent the rest of the hour talking about astrology, about art, about our favorite foods. He didn' t ask me a single question about Desmond, about my past, about the ---- nightmares. But as | walked out of his office, | realized | felt lighter than | had in months. Our subsequent sessions followed the same pattern. We talked about everything and nothing. He made me feel like | was talking to a friend, not a doctor. Slowly, without even realizing it, | began to open up. | told him about my love for painting, a passion | had buried for over a decade. | told him about my dreams of going back to school. He became the first real friend | had made in my new life. One day, he looked at me, a serious expression on his handsome face. "You' re a very pure person, Ariel." | let out a bitter laugh. "Pure is just another word for stupid." He shook his head. "No. It' s another word for brave. It takes incredible bravery to keep an open heart in a world that' s constantly trying to break it." His words, his unwavering belief in my goodness, chipped away at the wall | had built around myself. That day, for the first time, | told him everything. The whole sordid, painful story of me and Desmond. | told him about the sacrifices, the lies, the basement, the kidnapping, the whip. The words poured out of me in a torrent of grief and rage. | cried until | had no tears left, my body shaking with the force of my sobs. Alan didn' t say a word. He just sat there, his presence a calm, steady anchor in my emotional storm, and listened. ---- When | was done, | felt... empty. But it was a clean emptiness, a quiet space where healing could finally begin. He looked at me, his eyes full of a profound compassion that made my heart ache. "You' ve been through a war, Ariel," he said softly. "But you survived. The therapy has worked. You're ready to move on." | smiled, a real, genuine smile. "I think | am." He smiled back, and in that moment, | saw something shift in his eyes. A flicker of something more than just professional concern. The nightmares stopped. The ghost of Desmond began to fade, his memory losing its sharp, painful edges. At our last official session, Alan seemed nervous. He fidgeted with his pen, his usual easy confidence gone. "So," he said, clearing his throat. "Since our doctor-patient relationship is now officially concluded... | was wondering... if you would allow me to continue seeing you. As a friend. Or maybe... something more." My heart did a little flip in my chest. "I'd like that, Alan," | said, a blush creeping up my cheeks. "I'd like that very much." He let out a breath he seemed to have been holding. A wide, dazzling grin spread across his face. He was in love with me. | could see it, clear as day. And the thought, for the first time in my life, didn't feel like a burden. It felt like a gift.