The therapist secret

Chapter 17

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Layla sat at the counter of the vinyl store, her fingers tracing the edge of an old record sleeve. She had been at work for hours, but her mind wasn't there. It hadn't been since the night of the bar. Since she'd kissed Bella.

The memory of Bella's lips was still fresh in her mind, no matter how hard she tried to push it away. The warmth of Bella's body pressed against hers, the taste of whiskey and something unnameable lingering between them. Layla had woken up the next morning with a pounding headache and a heart full of confusion. She'd left Bella's house without a word, guilt gnawing at her insides. They hadn't spoken about it since.

And now, as she stood behind the counter, pretending to focus on the rows of vinyls that needed to be organized, she couldn't help but think about the way Bella had looked at her. The raw vulnerability in her eyes, the way she'd almost broken open under the weight of it all. Layla wasn't sure what to make of it, but she knew one thing: Bella felt something for her. Something deep.

Layla wasn't ready for it. She wasn't ready for the intensity that came with Bella's feelings. She wasn't sure she ever would be.

The doorbell chimed, signaling the arrival of a customer. Layla's heart sank when she saw who it was—*him*. The guy from the bar. The one she'd been flirting with in a haze of alcohol and uncertainty. He smiled at her, easy and confident, the kind of smile that should've made her feel something. But it didn't.

"Hey," he said, leaning casually against the counter. "Fancy seeing you again."

Layla forced a smile, her hands tightening around the record sleeve. "Yeah, fancy that."

He chuckled, oblivious to the turmoil swirling inside her. "So, how's work been? You still loving the place?"

"Yeah, it's great," Layla replied automatically, not really hearing her own words. Her mind was elsewhere—back with Bella, back with the kiss they shared, back with the guilt that refused to leave her alone.

"I was thinking," the guy said, his voice cutting through her thoughts. "Maybe we could grab a drink sometime? You know, away from all this."

Layla blinked, trying to focus on his face. He was nice enough—charming, even. But he wasn't what she wanted. He wasn't who she wanted. "I don't know," she said slowly, her voice uncertain. "I've been... busy."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting the hesitation. "Busy, huh? Too busy for a quick drink?"

Layla smiled again, but this time it felt more like a grimace. "Yeah. I've got a lot going on."

There was a beat of silence before he shrugged, a little too nonchalant. "Alright. I get it. But if you change your mind, you know where to find me."

Layla nodded, her heart sinking as he walked away. She watched him leave, feeling like she had just dodged something—though she wasn't sure if it was a bullet or a lifeline. The door closed with a soft jingle, and she was alone again.

Except she wasn't. Not really.

Bella's face flashed in her mind, unbidden and overwhelming. The way she had looked at Layla after the kiss, like she was seeing all of her—every broken piece, every jagged edge. Bella had always seen her, but that night was different. That night, she saw too much.

Layla swallowed hard, pushing the thoughts away. She needed to get back to work, to focus, to stop thinking about Bella and the way she made her feel. But even as she tried to distract herself, the guilt remained, festering like an open wound.

She needed to talk to Bella. To clear the air. But the thought of facing her after everything that had happened felt impossible.

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Later that day, Layla found herself sitting in Bella's office, her nerves buzzing like live wires. It was their first session since the kiss—since the call—and she had no idea what to expect.

Bella sat across from her, composed as always, though there was a tension in her posture that Layla hadn't seen before. She looked tired, like she hadn't slept in days. Her eyes were slightly red-rimmed, and Layla wondered if she had been crying.

They started the session like usual, Bella asking her how she'd been, how work was going, but the air between them felt thick, heavy with everything unspoken.

Layla hesitated before speaking, her fingers twisting in her lap. "I... I saw him again."

Bella's eyes flicked up, something unreadable flashing across her face. "Him?"

"The guy from the bar," Layla clarified, her voice tight. "He comes into the store a lot."

Bella didn't say anything, but the slight tightening of her jaw didn't go unnoticed. Layla swallowed, guilt gnawing at her insides.

"He... asked me out again," Layla admitted, her heart pounding in her chest. "And I didn't know what to say. I feel like I'm leading him on, but... I don't really want him. I just..."

Bella's silence stretched on, and Layla felt the weight of it pressing down on her. She wanted to say more, to explain how confused she was, but the words wouldn't come.

Finally, Bella spoke, her voice quiet, controlled. "Why are you telling me this?"

The question hit Layla like a punch to the gut. She blinked, unsure of how to respond. "I... I don't know. I just... I thought you should know."

Bella's lips pressed into a thin line, her gaze dropping to the floor. "Layla, this... this isn't part of our sessions. If you're seeing someone, that's your business."

Layla's stomach twisted with guilt. She hadn't meant to hurt Bella, but she could see the pain in her eyes, the way she was trying so hard to keep it together. And it was all her fault.

"I'm sorry," Layla whispered, her voice barely audible. "I didn't mean to—"

"It's fine," Bella cut her off, her voice sharp. "We should stick to your therapy."

But it wasn't fine. And they both knew it.

As the session continued, Layla couldn't shake the feeling that something between them had fractured. And no matter how much she wanted to fix it, she didn't know how.