The therapist secret

Chapter 2

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The bell above the door tinkled softly as Layla pushed her way into the coffee shop. It was one of those places that felt safe—the muted lighting, the smell of fresh coffee mingling with old books. The shop was tucked between a small library and a used bookstore, and it was Layla's favorite escape. She used to come here before everything happened, before her world had turned inside out. Back then, she'd sit in the corner, flipping through novels, losing herself in stories that had nothing to do with her life.

Now, she came to drown out the noise in her head, to fill the emptiness with something that didn't hurt.

The place was quiet, like it always was. A few people scattered around, their heads buried in books or laptops. Layla ordered a coffee—black, because she didn't have the energy to care about anything else—and found her usual spot near the back, hidden behind shelves of secondhand books. The corner was dim, but it gave her a sense of privacy, a small sanctuary where she could pretend, if only for a few moments, that things were normal.

She wrapped her hands around the mug, the warmth seeping into her skin, and took a slow breath. The familiar hum of the shop settled her nerves, if only a little. Her fingers twitched toward the small notebook in her bag, one Bella had given her. "Write down the thoughts that won't leave you alone," Bella had suggested. "Even if they're hard. Especially if they're hard."

Layla hadn't written much, just fragments of sentences, disconnected thoughts that didn't make sense. But she reached for the notebook anyway, pulling it out along with a pen, trying to will herself to start.

The door chimed again, but Layla didn't look up. It was probably just someone else slipping in to escape the rain that had started falling outside. She kept her eyes down, fingers tracing the edge of the notebook.

"Layla?"

The sound of her name froze her in place. That voice—familiar, haunting. Her stomach dropped, cold dread curling in her chest. Slowly, too slowly, she lifted her gaze toward the source of the voice.

It was him.

He stood by the counter, his back to her, ordering coffee like it was any normal day. He was taller than she remembered, his dark hair still messy like it always had been. Her breath caught in her throat, and her vision blurred at the edges. She didn't need to see his face to know. She could still hear his voice echoing in her head, the taunts, the laughter, the threats. Her body remembered what her mind had tried to forget.

Her heart pounded, a cold sweat breaking out on her skin. She was trapped, stuck in the chair, unable to move. The mug in her hands shook, and she set it down before it slipped, the clatter loud in the quiet space. Her eyes darted to the exit, but he was blocking her way out. She couldn't leave, not without walking past him.

The room seemed to close in, the walls pressing in tighter with every second that passed. She needed to get out. She needed air.

Her hand fumbled in her bag for her phone. Her fingers were shaking, but she managed to find Bella's number, her thumb pressing the call button before she could second-guess herself. The phone rang once. Twice.

"Layla?" Bella's voice came through, warm, soft, and grounding. "Are you okay?"

Layla couldn't speak. Her mouth felt dry, her throat tight. Her heart was hammering against her ribs like it was trying to escape.

"Layla, breathe," Bella's voice was firm but calm. "In through your nose, out through your mouth. Just breathe."

Layla squeezed her eyes shut, gripping the phone as if it were a lifeline. She focused on Bella's voice, her breathing shaky and uneven at first, but slowly, slowly, she found a rhythm.

"I'm—I'm at the coffee shop," she finally managed, her voice trembling. "He's here."

Bella didn't need to ask who "he" was. Layla had told her enough about him in their sessions—about the way he'd followed her, manipulated her, turned her life into a nightmare. Bella's voice softened, but Layla could hear the concern beneath it. "I'm here, Layla. I'm right here. Can you find a safe place? Somewhere you can sit without seeing him?"

"I... I can't move," Layla whispered, her eyes darting toward him again. He hadn't seen her yet. "He's... he's right by the door."

There was a pause on Bella's end, then, "Layla, listen to me. You don't have to go past him. Just stay where you are. Keep talking to me, okay?"

Layla swallowed, her fingers digging into the phone as if holding on to Bella's voice could pull her out of the panic swirling inside her. "I can't... I can't think," she said, her voice cracking. "I feel like I'm... back there."

"You're not," Bella said firmly. "You're not back there, Layla. You're here, in the coffee shop. He can't hurt you."

The words barely registered. Her mind was a whirlwind of memories, all of them tangled together—his face, his hands, the cold grip of fear that never seemed to leave. She squeezed her eyes shut again, trying to block it all out.

"Can you feel your feet on the ground?" Bella asked, her tone guiding her back. "Press them down. Feel the chair under you."

Layla did as she said, her feet pressing into the floor, the solidness grounding her, pulling her back from the edge. The chair was solid beneath her, the table in front of her steady. She wasn't there. She was here.

"I'm here," she whispered, barely audible, but Bella heard her.

"You're here," Bella repeated gently. "And I'm here with you. You're safe, Layla."

Layla's breaths were still shaky, but she felt a sliver of calm slip through the panic. The world wasn't spinning as fast anymore. She could hear the soft hum of the coffee shop again, the clink of mugs, the quiet murmur of conversation. It wasn't as loud as the noise in her head, but it was there.

"Do you want me to come meet you?" Bella asked after a long moment.

Layla hesitated, her gaze flicking toward the door. He hadn't noticed her. She wasn't ready to leave her corner yet, but she wasn't sure she could handle seeing Bella right now either. It felt like too much, too close to the mess inside her.

"No," she said quietly. "I just... I just needed to hear your voice."

Bella's silence felt like understanding, her presence solid even through the phone. "That's okay," she finally said. "Whenever you're ready, we'll talk more. But for now, just keep breathing. Keep grounding yourself. I'm not going anywhere."

Layla nodded even though Bella couldn't see her, her grip on the phone loosening slightly. She took another slow breath, her heart still beating fast, but not quite as wild. She was still in pieces, still shattered, but Bella's voice made her feel like maybe—just maybe—she didn't have to put those pieces back together alone.

And for now, that was enough.