The therapist secret

Chapter 13

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Weeks passed, and the routine of the bookstore had become a strange sort of comfort for Layla. She found solace in the smell of old books and the soft music that played in the background, a contrast to the whirlwind of emotions that had consumed her life lately. Working there made her feel like she could disappear for a while, become someone who wasn't constantly haunted by memories or guilt.

But then there was *him*.

The guy from the bar—Michael, as she'd learned—had become a regular customer. He came in at least once a week, always with the same easy smile and casual charm. At first, she'd been wary, knowing that her flirtation with him was nothing more than a temporary escape. Yet, despite herself, Layla found it hard to ignore him. His presence, though shallow, made her feel something—maybe not excitement, but at least distraction.

Michael didn't push, didn't ask questions she wasn't ready to answer. When they talked, it was about the books he picked up or some vinyl he was interested in. His conversation was light, surface-level, and that was exactly what Layla needed. No deep feelings. No unspoken tension. Just simplicity.

And, sometimes, that simplicity felt nice. Even if she didn't really *want* him, even if she didn't feel the pull she'd felt with Bella, he still made her feel... wanted. It was enough to make her forget, just for a little while, how confused and tangled her heart was.

But it wasn't enough to keep the guilt away.

Every time Michael walked into the store, she felt a twinge of something in her chest—an unease that grew heavier with each interaction. Because no matter how easy things were with him, she couldn't ignore the fact that she was running from the truth. From Bella.

The memory of that night—the kiss, the way Bella had looked at her, the unspoken feelings between them—lingered like a shadow over everything. And the more time passed, the more Layla knew she couldn't keep avoiding it. She was going to have to face it, sooner or later.

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Her next therapy session with Bella came quicker than expected. As she sat on the couch across from her, Layla couldn't help but notice the way Bella's gaze lingered on her, the slight tension in her shoulders that hadn't been there before. They hadn't talked about the kiss—not really. They hadn't mentioned what it had meant, or how it had changed things between them. But Layla could feel it. The shift. The weight of what they weren't saying hung heavy in the room, thickening the air between them.

"So, how's everything been?" Bella asked, her voice gentle, though there was an undercurrent of something deeper, something Layla couldn't quite place.

Layla shifted in her seat, running a hand through her hair as she considered her words. She didn't want to talk about Michael, didn't want to bring up the complication that had wormed its way into her already messy life. But before she could stop herself, the words slipped out.

"I... met someone," she said quietly, eyes flicking toward the window as if that would make it easier to say. "Well, I didn't meet him. I mean, I saw him again. From the bar."

Bella's face didn't change immediately, but Layla noticed the slight tightening of her jaw, the way her eyes darkened just a fraction. She stayed silent, waiting for Layla to continue, but the tension in the room thickened with each passing second.

Layla felt a knot of guilt twist in her stomach. She hadn't meant to mention him, hadn't meant to bring it up like this. But now it was too late, and the look on Bella's face made her wish she could take it back.

"We've just... talked," Layla added quickly, trying to downplay it. "It's nothing serious."

Bella gave a small nod, but Layla could see the hurt in her eyes. She wasn't sure if it was intentional or not, but Bella's hands had clenched slightly in her lap, her posture more rigid than usual.

"And how does that make you feel?" Bella asked, her voice still soft but edged with something Layla hadn't heard from her before—something more personal.

Layla swallowed hard. "It's... complicated. I don't even know why I'm talking to him. He just... I don't know. He makes things feel easier. But it's not—"

She trailed off, unsure of how to explain it. Michael wasn't what she wanted, not really. But sometimes, it was nice to pretend. To act like everything was simple, like she wasn't carrying the weight of her past or the weight of what had happened between her and Bella.

Bella's eyes met hers, and Layla could see the hurt there now, plain as day. "Does it make things easier?" Bella asked, and her voice cracked, just a little. "Or does it make things more confusing?"

Layla's breath caught in her throat, the guilt slamming into her all over again. She had never wanted to hurt Bella. She had never wanted to complicate things even more than they already were. But here she was, sitting in front of the one person who had been there for her, who had cared for her, and all she had done was make things worse.

"I don't know," Layla whispered, her voice small. "I don't know what I'm doing."

For a moment, neither of them said anything. The silence stretched between them, heavy and full of things neither of them were ready to say. Layla felt like she was suffocating under the weight of it, under the guilt that was eating away at her.

Bella finally broke the silence, her voice quieter than before. "You don't have to have all the answers right now, Layla. But you need to figure out what you want. Because running away from your feelings isn't going to make them go away."

Layla's heart ached at the words, at the way Bella looked at her like she was trying so hard to stay professional, to keep her distance. But Layla could see it—the cracks in Bella's calm exterior, the way her feelings were seeping through despite her best efforts.

And Layla felt awful. Because Bella deserved better. She deserved someone who wasn't tangled up in guilt and confusion, someone who wasn't flirting with strangers to avoid what was right in front of her.

But Layla didn't know how to fix it. She didn't know how to stop herself from running.

"I'm sorry," Layla whispered, her voice barely audible.

Bella gave her a sad smile, one that didn't reach her eyes. "Don't be sorry, Layla. Just... be honest with yourself."

And in that moment, Layla realized just how much she had been avoiding the truth.

Because the truth was, she didn't want Michael.

She wanted Bella.

But she was terrified of what that meant. Terrified of what would happen if she let herself feel everything she had been trying so hard to ignore.

As the session came to an end, Layla left the office feeling more confused than ever, the weight of Bella's unspoken feelings pressing heavily on her heart. And for the first time, Layla wondered if running away wasn't just hurting her—but Bella, too.