Twisted love

Healing Hearts

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Present

Chapter: Twenty-five

Katherine’s POV

The waiting room was eerily quiet, broken only by the faint sound of ticking from the wall clock. I glanced at Andrew, who was still pacing, his anxiety palpable. Every time he stopped, his gaze darted toward the door as if he were waiting for someone to come in and make everything right. But the truth was, I didn’t know if that someone existed.

Oliver sat beside me, his presence a solid reassurance amidst the chaos. I could feel the weight of his concern as he watched Andrew. It was clear we were all feeling the effects of this tangled web we’d woven over the years.

“Maybe we should talk to him,” Oliver suggested softly, breaking the silence. His voice was gentle but firm, a reminder that we needed to take action.

I nodded, taking a deep breath. “We have to try. He’s not the same person he was back then.” The memory of Andrew crying on the floor, clutching my legs, haunted me. It was a painful reminder of his fragile state of mind.

Finally, the door to the psychologist’s office opened, and a middle-aged woman with kind eyes emerged. “Katherine, Oliver, Andrew?” she called softly, looking at each of us in turn. “Come on in.”

As we entered the office, the atmosphere shifted. The walls were painted a soothing blue, and a large bookshelf lined with self-help books offered a sense of hope. A couch sat in the center, and two chairs were arranged around a small coffee table. It felt like a safe space, one where we could begin to unpack the chaos of our lives.

Andrew sank into a chair, his posture slumped, and I took a seat next to him. Oliver settled on the opposite chair, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees, his expression a mix of determination and worry.

“Let’s start by talking about what’s been happening,” the psychologist said, her voice warm and inviting. “Andrew, I know this must be difficult, but I’m here to help you.”

Andrew’s eyes flickered to mine, and I could see the vulnerability beneath his bravado. “I...I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he stammered. “I thought I was okay, but it’s like everything is falling apart again. I can’t stop thinking about her—about Katanya.”

My heart sank at the mention of my late twin sister. She had been such a bright light in his life, and the weight of her absence was still heavy on him. I could only imagine how torturous it must be to have those memories resurface so painfully.

“Andrew, you have to understand that it’s okay to feel lost,” I said, my voice steady. “We’re here for you. We want to help you heal.”

Oliver nodded, his eyes locked on Andrew’s. “We all have our struggles. We just need to work through them together.”

As the session progressed, I watched Andrew slowly begin to unravel. He spoke about the guilt he carried, how the unresolved feelings for Katanya had bled into his relationship with me. He admitted to the jealousy he felt when he saw Oliver with me, and I felt a pang of empathy for the boy I once knew—the boy who had only ever wanted to be loved.

“I’m sorry, Katherine,” he whispered, tears pooling in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just... I thought if I could be with you, it would make everything better, but instead, I just made it worse.”

“Andrew, it’s going to take time,” I reassured him, placing a hand on his arm. “But I’m here now, and we can figure this out together. We can find a way to move forward.”

For the first time, I could see a flicker of hope in his eyes, a glimmer that maybe we could heal the wounds of our past. I realized then that despite everything that had happened, I didn’t want to let go of Andrew. He needed me, and perhaps I needed him too.

As the session continued, I focused on pushing aside my anger and resentment. It was time to heal—not just for Andrew, but for myself, too. This was a new beginning, and I was determined to see it through.

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The psychologist leaned forward, her brow furrowed in thought. “Andrew, what you’re experiencing may be more complex than it seems,” she began, her voice calm and steady. “It’s possible that the trauma of losing Katanya has manifested in a way that has altered your perception of reality. In some cases, individuals experiencing significant emotional distress can dissociate from memories or even misidentify people who resemble those they’ve lost. Your mind may have constructed a false narrative, one that allowed you to cope with the pain of her loss by associating Katherine with her.” Andrew’s eyes widened as the weight of her words sank in, a flicker of understanding crossing his face. “What I’m suggesting is that your feelings for Katherine might be a projection of your unresolved grief over your sister,” she continued. “This is known as ‘repressed memory’—your mind has shielded you from the full impact of your trauma. It’s not uncommon for people who endure such profound loss to experience this kind of confusion. My diagnosis for you is complex post-traumatic stress disorder (C-PTSD), which can stem from overwhelming trauma and loss, especially in close relationships.” The psychologist paused, allowing the gravity of her words to settle in the room. “This doesn’t mean that your feelings for Katherine aren’t real; rather, they are intertwined with the unresolved pain of your past. Understanding this can be the first step toward healing.” I felt a surge of compassion for Andrew as he processed this revelation. It was a lot to unpack, and I realized that the road ahead wouldn’t be easy. But for the first time, I sensed that there was a path forward, one that could lead us all toward understanding, acceptance, and hopefully, healing.

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As the psychologist's words echoed in my mind, I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that there was more to the story of Katanya’s death than I had ever understood. What if Andrew wasn’t the only one affected by her loss? What if there were hidden truths about that day—secrets that had gone unspoken for far too long? My heart raced as I contemplated the possibility that Andrew’s fixation on me was just the tip of the iceberg. I remembered how close we were as sisters, yet how little I truly knew about her life, her struggles, and the moments that led to the tragic accident. I had been so consumed with my own grief and guilt over not being there for her that I never questioned the circumstances surrounding her death. Maybe there was more to it—more layers of pain, regret, and unresolved issues that needed to be uncovered. My determination to help Andrew began to intertwine with a desperate need to seek the truth about Katanya’s life and death, as if the answers might unlock the mystery that bound us all.

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