Therapeutical

𝗫𝗜𝗫 · Nᴀᴘᴇᴛᴏsᴛ

𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧
/ˈtɛnʃ(ə)n/

mental or emotional strain

· —————— · 𖥸 · —————— ·

Oh my hell. I'm definitely dreaming.

"So, Ksenija," the man across me spoke. "How have you been?"

I carried on smiling like a weirdo, unable to contain the excitement and happiness that had encapsulated my being. It was all I could focus on, not a sound escaping my mouth.

Quirking a brow after a moment of silence, he asked: "Is everything all right?"

"Um, yeah, everything's great," I answered, scratching my arm in an attempt to relax. A faint chuckle sounded from my throat as I concluded: "I'm just... I don't know."

Jotting something down, he said: "You seem quite happy and lively today," then linked his blues to mine with a warm smile. "That can only mean something good's happened, no?"

Well, yeah, you've returned, that's what's up. But I can't really tell you that now, can I?

I swept a hand through my hair. "You could say that."

His smile transfigured into a sparkling grin, enhancing his dimples and light wrinkles surrounding his eyes. "That's great to hear. You already look ravishing."

God, stop it. I'm gonna get fanny flutters, Dr Arh.

Blood rushed towards my cheeks as he resumed: "How have things been with Dr Leban?"

I inhaled deeply, attempting to snap myself out of my emotional nirvana; I was still there for my session after all.

"Dr Leban's been fine. Although, I, uh..." I trailed off, clearing my throat. "I didn't really feel I could..."

Shit, shut up. Don't finish that sentence.

Tim upheld his focus on me as he leant back on his seat with crossed arms, allowing me to finish. I took a second to glimpse the delectable veins and hair that adorned his refined forearms.

Snap out of it, damn.

Clearing my throat again, I continued: "Okay, so, I didn't feel I could tell her everything. I don't know, I just... I suppose I feel more comfortable with, uh... with you."

Anxious, I dropped my gaze to the hands on my lap, only glancing at Tim briefly; I hadn't expected him to shoot a friendly smile my way.

"I mean, don't get me wrong, Dr Leban's great and kind – I have nothing against her," I raised my hands in surrender. "I like her, um, and she made me feel secure, heard and all, but–"

My ramble was cut short by the sound of Tim's light chuckle.

"I mean–"

"Ksenija, it's okay," he intervened serenely, elaborating: "I understand what you mean, and it's okay to admit you feel more comfortable with me as your psychiatrist. After all, it's not up to us whom we get along with better; it's a natural occurrence with all connections we share. If that's the case, you have nothing to feel guilty or ashamed of. I'm happy to be here with you to help."

"Yeah, um... that's what I meant, sorry," I uttered in a moment, dropping my eyes again.

"Nothing to apologise for," he reassured, then focused on the file before him, flipping the pages. "I've received the notes from Dr Leban, so I'm just going to briefly skim through. Give me a minute."