Bikeriders Serenade

Silent Strength

A week had passed since Austin’s call with Caleb, and though the weight of the dream still lingered, he found himself more at peace with the idea of asking for help. With the unwavering support of his family and Caleb’s encouragement, he decided that it was time to talk to a professional—someone who could help him navigate the grief, anxiety, and depression he had been carrying for years.

That morning, Austin stood in front of the mirror in his bathroom, staring at his reflection. His hands gripped the edges of the sink as he took a deep breath. He had faced a lot in his life—challenging roles, personal loss, the highs and lows of his career—but this felt different. Vulnerable. It was one thing to open up to Lucy or Caleb, but talking to a stranger about the deepest parts of his soul? That was a different kind of fear altogether.

Lucy appeared behind him, placing a comforting hand on his back. "You’re doing the right thing," she said gently, meeting his gaze in the mirror. "I’m proud of you."

Austin nodded, his chest tight. "I hope so."

A few hours later, he found himself sitting in the waiting room of Dr. Harper's office, a therapist who specialized in grief, anxiety, and depression. The room was calming—soft, muted tones of blue and beige, with light filtering in through the large windows. A few magazines sat untouched on the table in front of him, but Austin didn’t bother picking one up. His mind was racing.

When the door to the office opened, Dr. Harper, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and a warm smile, greeted him. "Austin? Come on in."

He stood, shaking her hand, and followed her into the office. The space was just as comforting as the waiting room—plush chairs, soft lighting, and a sense of quiet that made it easy to breathe.

As they sat down, Dr. Harper didn’t rush into questions or explanations. She simply offered him a moment to settle in, giving him space to find his words.

"So, Austin," she began softly, "tell me about what brings you here today."

Austin took a breath, glancing at the floor before meeting her gaze. "I’ve been carrying a lot for a long time. It’s about my mom. She passed away from cancer several years ago, and... it’s something I’ve never really been able to fully deal with. The grief, the guilt, the anxiety—it’s all there. And it’s been affecting me in ways I didn’t even realize until recently."

Dr. Harper nodded, her expression open and understanding. "Losing someone we love, especially a parent, can be one of the hardest things we ever go through. It sounds like your grief has been a constant companion, even if you weren’t always fully aware of its impact."

Austin swallowed his throat tight. "Yeah. It was like I just kept going. I threw myself into my work—acting, projects, everything. And for a while, it helped. But lately... I’ve been feeling like I’m unraveling."

He paused, struggling to find the right words. "When my mom was sick, she encouraged me to keep going with my career, to follow my dreams. But there were moments after she passed when I thought about giving it all up. I couldn’t imagine continuing without her."

Dr. Harper listened intently, her pen resting lightly on her notepad. "What kept you going? What stopped you from giving up?"

Austin exhaled, leaning back slightly. "I thought about her. About everything she sacrificed for me to have this dream. I couldn’t let it all be for nothing. It felt like giving up on acting would be like giving up on her."

Dr. Harper nodded, her gaze thoughtful. "It sounds like your connection to her, even after she passed, played a huge role in your decision. But it also sounds like you’ve been carrying the weight of that decision—along with your grief—for a long time."