The therapist secret

Chapter 7

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Layla couldn't take it anymore.

For the past few weeks, Bella had been acting distant—quiet, awkward, like she was constantly walking on eggshells around her. It was driving Layla insane. Every time she tried to talk about her feelings, about the nightmares that kept haunting her, or the relentless weight of her trauma, Bella's responses were cold, mechanical, like she was reciting lines from a textbook instead of actually *listening*.

It wasn't like Bella at all. And it made Layla feel like she was back in that void of uncertainty, where everything she cared about slipped away. She could feel the old fears creeping in—fear of being abandoned, of not being good enough, of doing something to push people away. And with Bella, those fears hit harder than they had in a long time.

Layla sat on the worn leather couch in Bella's office, tapping her foot against the floor as the silence stretched between them. Bella was sitting across from her, her hands folded neatly in her lap, a small crease of worry on her forehead. Layla watched her for a moment, feeling the tension coil tighter and tighter in her chest.

She couldn't take it anymore.

She took a deep breath, her hands clenching into fists on her thighs. "What's going on with you?"

Bella blinked, startled by the sudden question. "What do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean," Layla said, her voice sharper than she intended. "You've been weird for weeks now. You barely look at me, and when you do, it's like you're avoiding something. You're not talking to me the way you used to, and... and it feels like you don't care anymore." She swallowed hard, her throat tight. "Did I do something? Is this about me?"

Bella's face softened, and for a moment, Layla thought she might finally open up. But instead, Bella shook her head, her eyes downcast. "No, it's not about you. You haven't done anything wrong."

Layla clenched her teeth, frustration boiling up inside her. "Then *what* is it? You're acting like a stranger, Bella. I thought we were... I thought I could trust you."

Bella's breath hitched, and she looked away, her hands gripping the edge of her chair. "It's complicated," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Layla let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "There it is again. 'It's complicated.' Everything is always complicated, right? But you're not telling me *why* it's complicated." She shook her head, her voice rising with every word. "I'm so tired of this. You're supposed to be helping me, but how am I supposed to trust you if you won't even be honest with me?"

Bella winced, and Layla immediately regretted the harshness in her tone. But she was tired. Tired of feeling like she was walking through a fog, always trying to guess what Bella was thinking, why she was pulling away.

Layla leaned forward, her voice softer now, but no less urgent. "I can't do this if you're not with me, Bella. I can't keep coming in here and pretending everything's okay when it's not. Please, just... tell me what's going on."

Bella's eyes finally met Layla's, and for a split second, Layla saw something raw and unguarded in them. Something fragile. It made her stomach twist, because for the first time, she realized just how much Bella was struggling, too.

But then, just as quickly, Bella closed herself off again, shaking her head. "It's not something I can talk about," she said quietly, her voice barely steady. "I'm sorry, Layla. I wish I could, but I can't."

Layla's chest tightened, but this time, the anger faded into something else—something like sadness. She wanted to push, to demand answers, but the look in Bella's eyes stopped her. It wasn't that Bella didn't care. Layla could see that now. Bella was hurting, too, and whatever was going on inside her head, it wasn't something Layla could fix.

They sat in silence for what felt like an eternity, the weight of the unspoken words hanging heavy between them. Layla's heart pounded in her chest, but the anger had drained out of her, leaving only exhaustion in its wake. She didn't want to fight anymore.

Finally, Bella broke the silence. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "I know I haven't been... myself lately. It's not fair to you, and I'm sorry for that."

Layla nodded, her throat tight. "I just don't want to lose you," she said, the vulnerability in her voice surprising even herself. "You're the only one who gets me, and if you're not here—really *here*—I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

Bella's eyes softened, and for the first time in weeks, she gave Layla a real, genuine smile. "You're not going to lose me," she said quietly. "I'm still here. I just... I have some things I need to work through on my own."

Layla nodded again, feeling a small flicker of relief. It wasn't a full explanation—Bella still wasn't telling her everything—but it was enough. For now.

The tension in the room seemed to lift, just a little, and as they eased back into the session, Layla found herself feeling more at ease. Bella was still a little distant, but the coldness was gone, replaced by something softer, something closer to the Bella she had always known.

As they talked, Layla caught herself glancing at Bella more than usual. She noticed the way Bella's eyes lingered on her when she spoke, the way her gaze seemed to soften whenever Layla opened up about something difficult. It wasn't the first time Layla had noticed Bella looking at her like that, but for some reason, today it felt different.

There was something in those looks—something warm, something tender—that Layla hadn't fully recognized before.

And then, suddenly, it clicked.

Layla's breath caught in her throat as the realization hit her like a wave. Bella wasn't just being distant because she was dealing with her own stuff. There was more to it than that. Bella was looking at her—really *looking* at her—and it wasn't the way a therapist was supposed to look at their patient.

It was something else. Something deeper.

Layla felt a rush of confusion, followed by a flicker of something she wasn't sure she could name. She had always trusted Bella, always felt safe with her. But now, there was this new layer, this strange, unspoken thing between them that Layla hadn't seen before. Or maybe she had seen it, but she hadn't wanted to acknowledge it.

As they continued talking, Layla's mind raced, her thoughts a tangled mess of questions and realizations. She wasn't sure what to make of it, wasn't sure if she even *wanted* to make sense of it. But one thing was clear—things between her and Bella were changing. And Layla didn't know where it would lead.