Chapter-29

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Hi!

First of all, I would like to give a shout out to Effat8982 for the gorgeous cover that she made for the story. Check it out, it's on the side. And also she's such an amazing person. I had such a nice time talking to her. She's both kind and encouraging. Thank you so much for supporting this story.

And now, with the chapter. This is actually a reallllllly long one and just a heads up you won't be very happy by the end of it, but don't worry there are still a lot of chapters to come. Don't lose hope just yet. =)

Enjoy ♥

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The fastest hand of the desk clock, made of walnut wood, reached the number six, then moved to seven, then eight, nine and so on, and the sound of the hand making movements was the only thing one could hear in the otherwise silent office.

When my dad said that he had made an appointment with the therapist for "this week", apparently that meant the very next day, but since there was no use of fighting it, so I had agreed to come to the session with Dr. Rae Fraser. However, till now I had been completely mum when I was supposed to be pouring my heart out.

She sat one leg over the other, on a white wingback chair, her light eyes expertly trained on me. The stare was pointing, closely observing and mildly unnerving. I paid more attention to how she looked than the way she was looking at me.

A navy blue scarf tied in a complicated knot around the collar of her white oxford shirt, a deep grey pencil skirt which reached just past her knees completed the standard therapist attire. However her suede black Loubitons did stand out like a master piece among the crowd of blandness of her appearance. And one thing had been on mind since the second that I had walked in was that the way her shoulder length dirty blonde hair came down in chopped layers framed her pale skinned face, it reminded me of someone. In fact her whole face did, but I couldn't recall who.

I narrowed my eyes to think better.

That doesn't make sense. Why do we squint our eyes to think or pay more attention to anything?

"Are you thinking about it?" Dr. Fraser broke the silence of the room, and then adjusted the silver bracelet watch around her left wrist. "Do you think you can answer the question?"

I shook my head, giving out the impression of being confused. "I'm sorry, what was the question again?"

I knew she was already getting enough reactions from me to build a case of unusual behavior. I've been to enough number of such kinds of sessions that I was now very well aware of how the therapists went on with their questioning.

Dr. Fraser stayed silent, kept up a small smile and then quickly jotted something down in the notepad sitting on her lap.

"Okay, do you think you can talk about the day of Emma's accident?" she spoke, uttering every word slowly so as to assess my reaction during it. "For starters, do you remember the events that happened that day before you got the news."

I swear it wasn't just the AC that had kicked in which was responsible for the shiver that ran through my spine. I looked around the place to find my exit from this question and found it in the form of a small wooden photo frame lying on her desk.

"Is that your son?" I pointed to the picture of a smiling kid, around seven years old, with floppy blonde hair and missing a few teeth in the front.

"Yes, he is."

"He's really cute."

She was about to say something when my phone pinged with the standard iPhone message alert.

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