The therapist secret

Chapter 18

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The tension in the room hadn't dissipated since their last session. Layla felt it the moment she walked through Bella's office door the following week. The air hung thick with unsaid words, everything between them left unresolved, like a storm ready to break.

Layla settled into the chair, but today it felt more like a spotlight, her pulse quickening under Bella's gaze. Bella sat across from her, her hands folded in her lap, expression unreadable. The red-rimmed eyes from before were gone, replaced by the cool, professional mask she wore so well. But Layla knew better now. She had seen the cracks.

She knew what was hiding behind them.

"How have you been feeling since our last session?" Bella asked, her voice steady, but Layla could hear the undercurrent of something else. Restraint. Distance.

Layla shifted uncomfortably, her fingers twisting in her lap. She didn't want to talk about the last session. Not about the guy from the bar, not about the confusion that still sat heavy in her chest. What she wanted to talk about was the kiss. The moment that had altered everything. But how could she bring it up? How could she ask when it felt so fragile, like a piece of glass that might shatter if she looked too closely?

"I've been..." Layla paused, unsure of how to fill the space between them. "...confused."

Bella's brow furrowed ever so slightly, though her posture remained composed. "About what?"

"About everything," Layla admitted, her voice quieter than she intended. "About what happened... between us."

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, Layla wished she could take them back. But they were out there now, impossible to ignore.

Bella's gaze hardened slightly, and she straightened in her chair. "Layla, that kiss... it was a mistake."

Layla's heart sank, the words slicing through her. "A mistake?"

Bella nodded, her voice clipped. "Yes. I crossed a line, a professional line, and I deeply regret it. I should've never let it happen."

Layla's breath hitched in her throat. She had expected some kind of explanation, some acknowledgment of what they both felt, but this? This cold dismissal? It felt like a slap to the face.

"But it didn't feel like a mistake," Layla said, her voice barely above a whisper. "It felt real."

Bella's eyes softened, just for a moment, before the wall came back up. "It doesn't matter how it felt. It was wrong, and I need to be clear about that."

Layla's chest tightened, emotions swirling inside her—anger, hurt, and something even deeper, something she couldn't quite name. "So that's it? You're just going to pretend it didn't happen? Pretend you don't feel anything?"

Bella stood up suddenly, pacing to the window. She stared out into the city, her back to Layla, her shoulders tense. "I can't have this conversation with you."

"Why not?" Layla pressed, standing as well. "We've always been honest with each other. Why stop now?"

Bella turned to face her, and for the first time, Layla saw it—the struggle, the emotions Bella was trying so hard to suppress. Her voice shook, just barely. "Because I can't be your therapist and... whatever this is. I can't. It's not ethical. It's not right."

"But I don't care about that," Layla said, stepping closer, her own voice rising with frustration. "I care about you. And I think you care about me too. Why can't you just admit that?"

Bella looked at her, eyes full of conflict, torn between her professional duty and whatever it was she felt for Layla. "I'm your therapist. That's my role. I'm here to help you, not to get involved with you."

"You're more than that to me," Layla said, her voice softening, a plea in her words. "You know you are."

Bella closed her eyes, a deep breath escaping her lips. When she opened them again, they were filled with a sorrow that Layla hadn't seen before. "I can't do this. Not with you. Not like this."

The finality in Bella's tone sent a wave of dread crashing over Layla. She wanted to fight, to argue, to tell Bella she was wrong. But looking into her eyes, Layla realized it wouldn't change anything. Bella had made up her mind. She was drawing the line, and it wasn't one Layla could cross.

The silence between them grew unbearable, and Layla's chest tightened with the weight of it. She felt like she was losing something precious, something she hadn't even realized she needed until it was slipping away from her.

"I'm sorry," Bella said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry for everything."

Layla didn't say anything. She couldn't. Instead, she just nodded, her throat too tight to speak. She turned and walked toward the door, her steps heavy with the knowledge that whatever had existed between them—whatever they had almost had—was gone.

Just as she reached the door, Bella's voice stopped her. "Layla..."

Layla turned, hope flickering in her chest, but Bella's expression was one of regret. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

Layla swallowed hard, nodding once before walking out the door.

As she stepped into the cool evening air, the reality of it all hit her. Bella was no longer just her therapist. She was no longer just a professional figure in her life. She was something else entirely, and that something—whatever it was—was now fractured beyond repair.

But even as Layla walked away, she couldn't shake the feeling that their story wasn't over yet. Not really.

Because the spaces between them? They were still there, waiting to be filled.