"Wit'cho confused body built ass! I hate yo' ass sometimes, I swear!", she angrily yelled.
'Okay, and? The fuck I care for? Bet you be on my dick again tonight though?", he snidely retorted.
She tsked. "Fuck you!", she sneered.
He smirked. 'You al...
• treatment intended to relieve or heal a disorder.
• the treatment of mental or psychological disorders by psychological means.
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I never knew that I would see the day that I would be sitting in a therapist's office. I thought of myself as pretty sound mentally. I guess was not as sound as I thought. Here I am, sitting in front of a stranger. A stranger that is going to judge me.
I am not perfect.
I fucked up too.
Here we are.
Zayn sat across from me with his hands resting on his lap as he avoided my gaze. I wanted him to look at me. Even if were only for a mere few seconds. A glance or something would help suffice my anxiousness. He did neither.
I sighed for the umpteenth time. I was over this. I was ready to go home to my children and snuggle in bed watching one of our favorite series for the rest of the day. I was anxious. I was uncomfortable. I wanted to go home.
I drove myself here. I could leave at any time. But why stay somewhere I do not feel comfortable being? Because he is here. Zayn is here.
He has not asked much of me. Only this one thing, therapy. Not for mine or his benefit, but ours as husband and wife, friends, parents, as people. Somewhere along the way he and I unknowingly slipped into an abyss that left both of us drowning in our marriage.
Neither of us was perfect towards one another. Although I had not cheated, I hurt him. I realized what I had done when he stood before me a broken man. He was even more broken up about my betrayal than the loss of his grandfather. He looked so defeated and I felt lower than low watching him crumble right before my eyes.
I did that to him. I hurt him. I have to take accountability for my actions. I can throw excuses, but an excuse does not fix anything between us. It does not change the crimes I have committed against his heart. I fucked up.
"Sorry for being late. I had a prior engagement that ran over. I am Dr. Gaines. Welcome, Malik couple to the first step of recovery", greeted an overly sweet voice bringing me out of my reveries.
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