Unpacking.
Layer by layer.
By the time the session ended, I wasn’t “fixed.”
That’s not how this works.
But I was… clearer.
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Therapy
As I stood up to leave, she said-
ame time next week?”
I paused.
Then nodded.
“Yeah.”
Because something tells me…
This isn’t over.
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Cafe
Lydia POV
After my therapy session, I told myself I was fine.
Work would fix it.
Work always fixes everything.
But first… food.
Because I was starving.
Not emotionally.
Not dramatically.
Just… actually hungry.
So I drove to my favorite cafe.
The overpriced one I pretend I don’t love.
Their pastries just do something to me.
It’s embarrassing.
I ordered my usual.
Custom blueberry muffins.
Cappuccino.
The lady at the counter smiled like she already knew.
I didn’t even try to deny it.
I took my receipt and went to sit by the window.
My spot.
I like watching people move.
It makes my life feel… organized in comparison.
I rested my chin on my hand.
Dave.
For a second, nothing made sense.
Because I had imagined seeing him again…
But not like this.
Not here.
Not… normal.
“May I sit?” he asked.
I almost laughed.
Almost.
“Since when do you ask for permission, Mr Ashton?”
Something flickered across his face.
Quick.
Gone.
I picked up my bag.
“If you would excuse me-”
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“Lydia, please.”
shand wrapped around my wrist.
Not tight.
But enough.

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