I am THE Harry Styles's Therapist

Chapter 3: First Meeting

Jenny sat in the sleek, modern therapy room, feeling the awkward stillness settle in. The white walls reflected the sunlight streaming through the window, making the space feel both too open and claustrophobic at the same time. She adjusted the hem of her blouse, fiddling with the edge as the minutes ticked by.
Harry was late. Not that it surprised her. She imagined his life didn't run on the same clock as hers. He was probably used to showing up whenever he pleased, the world bending to his schedule.

She tried to distract herself by organizing her notes, but her mind kept wandering back to all the scenarios she'd imagined in the past few days. She'd prepared herself as best as she could-reading up on his career, his scandals, his rumored relationships. But none of that felt relevant now. She knew Harry Styles, the public figure. But who was Harry, the person?

The door finally opened, and Jenny looked up, her heart leaping into her throat. There he was, as casual as ever, wearing an oversized sweater, sunglasses perched on his head like he'd just come from the beach, not a therapy session. He sauntered in with an ease that only someone like him could pull off.

"Sorry, Ms.," he said, a grin tugging at his lips. "Traffic."
Jenny cleared her throat, forcing a professional smile as she gestured to the chair opposite her. "No problem. I'm Jenny. Your therapist... well, temporary therapist."

Harry plopped down in the chair, his long legs stretching out in front of him, completely unfazed by the setting. "So, you're the one who's going to fix me, huh?" His voice was laced with sarcasm, but there was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes.

Jenny met his gaze, feeling the weight of his presence more than she had anticipated. "Let's not think of it as fixing," she said, her voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in her chest. "More like discovering. You're not broken, Harry. Just... lost."

Harry's eyebrow lifted, and for the first time, he seemed genuinely interested. "Lost, huh?" he repeated, as if testing the word out on his tongue. "You've been reading those headlines about me, haven't you?"

Jenny smiled faintly, shaking her head. "I'm not here to talk about the headlines. I'm here to talk to you."

Harry's posture shifted slightly, his smirk softening. He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest, studying her. "Alright then," he said after a moment. "Let's talk."

The next few sessions were a slow unraveling. Each time Harry came in, the mask of celebrity slipped just a little more. The bravado, the charm-those were his defenses, Jenny realized. But beneath it all, there was something else. Something raw and unguarded that he didn't show to the public.

One afternoon, he arrived in a better mood than usual, humming softly to himself as he sat down. Jenny watched him for a moment, curious about what had shifted.

"You seem... lighter today," she remarked, her pen resting on the edge of her notebook.

Harry shrugged, a grin playing at the corner of his lips. "Had a good morning. Wrote some stuff I actually liked."

Jenny raised an eyebrow. "Music?"

"Yeah," he nodded, tapping his fingers on the arm of the chair. "It felt... different this time. Like I wasn't just doing it for the charts, you know?"

She nodded, understanding the weight of what he was saying. "And how did that feel?"

Harry leaned back, his gaze drifting toward the window as he thought about it. "Good, I guess. Free."

There was a pause as he let the word sink in. Free. It was something he hadn't felt in a long time, Jenny realized. His life was a constant tug-of-war between what the world expected of him and who he really was underneath it all.

"So what do you think that means?" Jenny asked, her voice gentle but probing. "Feeling free again?"

Harry hesitated, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he considered the question. "I dunno," he said eventually. "Maybe it means I'm starting to figure out what I actually want... instead of what everyone else wants from me."

Jenny watched him carefully, sensing the vulnerability behind his words. "And what do you want, Harry?" she asked, the question hanging in the air between them.

Harry's eyes flickered with something she couldn't quite place. He let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "That's the problem, isn't it? I don't really know."

Jenny nodded, letting the silence stretch for a moment. "That's okay," she said softly. "You don't have to know all the answers right now. Sometimes, it's enough to just start asking the right questions."

Harry looked at her, something in his expression softening. "You're good at this," he said, his voice quieter than usual. "This whole... getting me to talk thing."

Jenny smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. "It's what I do."