Chapter 010

Elena woke to the soft drip of rain against her bedroom window. Through the half-drawn curtains, the gray morning light seeped in, painting the room in muted blues and silvers. Her heart was still fluttering from last night's therapy session with Dr. Lisa Voss, where she'd relived one of her most intoxicating memories with Daniel. As much as the recollection had left her shaken, it also stirred something vital inside her—an electric reminder of feeling alive, however dangerous that feeling had been.

She lay for a moment under the warm duvet, listening to the rhythm of the rain, and allowed herself to simply be. No work emails to check. No Daniel's ghost whispering in her mind. Just the steady patter of droplets and her own breath rising and falling.

Eventually, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and padded barefoot across the plush rug to her journal—the one where she'd tucked away Dr. Voss's first letter. She opened it, then pulled free the HR approval letter on her desk:

Congratulations

Your request for a one-week mental-health leave has been approved. Take all the time you need.

Elena pressed her forehead against the cool metal of the bed frame, letting relief wash through her. A week. A full week to sift through her memories without the pressure of deadlines or office gossip.

She made a cup of chamomile tea in the kitchen and sat by the window, watching cars splatter puddles as they rolled down the street. She thumbed through her phone:

Nathan: "Miss you. Dinner at 7?"

Mara: "Thinking of you. Soup at 5?"

Elena tapped out a quick reply to Nathan: "Let's do 8. Need a little me-time first." Then to Mara: "Soup sounds perfect. Be there!"

The act of scheduling dinner with friends and her husband felt like claiming a lifeline—small anchors to her present life.

At 11 a.m., her doorbell rang. Mara stood on the porch, umbrella in hand, and a steaming thermos tucked under her arm.

"Hey, stranger," Mara greeted, stepping inside and shedding her wet coat. She set the thermos on the counter and gave Elena a hug that felt solid and real.

"Thanks for this," Elena said, pouring soup into two bowls. The savory aroma of carrot, ginger, and garlic filled the air.

Mara settled on the couch with her bowl. "How are you feeling?" she asked softly.

Elena cradled her bowl. "Honestly? A little unmoored. But… less terrified than yesterday." She paused. "Dr. Voss had me relive one of the highest moments with Daniel. It was as vivid as if I was there again."

Mara nodded, spoon halfway to her lips. "Want to share?"

Elena took a breath and told her about the rooftop party: the sultry music, the glittering lights, how Daniel had pressed her against the balcony wall so that the city below spun with their heat. How he'd whispered, "I want everyone to see how much I need you." And how, in that moment, she believed she was limitless.

Mara listened without interrupting. When Elena finished, tears glistened in her eyes. "Thank you for telling me," Mara said. "It takes guts. But remember—that high was addictive because it was dangerous. You deserve a high that doesn't pull you under."

Elena nodded, feeling both seen and frightened by her own memories.

Later, at home, she curled up on a different couch—Nathan's favorite reading nook—while she waited for him. The house smelled of fresh laundry and Nathan's cologne lingering on the pillows. She tried to focus on the pages of a novel she'd left half-read, but every description of wind-tossed lovers made her heart stutter.

Her phone buzzed:

Dr. Voss: "How are you feeling after today's reflection?"

Elena types: "Raw. Grateful. Scared I'll never feel normal again."

Almost immediately, the reply came:

Dr. Voss: "You're doing important work. It's okay to be scared. Be gentle with yourself."

Elena set the phone down and closed her eyes, letting the therapist's calm words settle in her chest.

At exactly 8 p.m., Nathan walked in with two glasses of red wine and a bouquet of daisies.

"You look pale," he said, handing her a glass.

"Just… processing," Elena replied, taking a sip. The wine was bold, tangy—another reminder of being fully awake in her senses.

They settled on the sofa, daisies between them on the coffee table. Nathan reached for her hand. "I'm proud of you," he said softly. "I know it's not easy."

Elena leaned into him. "Thank you—for being patient." She cocked her head, studying his face in the dim light. "I'm sorry I've been so distant."

He kissed her forehead. "I just want you back—safe, happy, with me."

She closed her eyes, wanting desperately to believe with him. "I'm trying. Therapy is showing me sides of myself I forgot existed."

Nathan squeezed her hand. "Whatever you need."

That night, sleep came fitfully. She dreamed of rooftops and rain, of Daniel's whisper against her neck and Nathan's whisper in her ear. When morning arrived, she rolled out of bed determined to reclaim the day.

She brewed coffee and sat on the balcony, rain-slicked potted plants at her feet. She took out her journal, writing:

I want to learn how to feel alive without that edge of danger. I want to remember pleasure without pain. I want a love that doesn't steal my peace.

She underlined peace three times.

Back in Dr. Voss's office the next morning, Elena arrived early and took the chair by the window. The sun peeked through a patch of clearing sky.

"Last time," Dr. Voss said, "we explored the highs. Today, I want to pivot—how did the glow begin to flicker out? At what point did desire start to hurt?"

Elena's fingers trailed over the armrest. "I think it started when I tried to hold on too hard. When jealousy became a weapon." She described the first argument that had followed an especially wild night: Daniel accusing her of smiling at other men, his texted ultimatums when she didn't respond fast enough.

"I remember standing outside his door in tears," she said, voice cracking. "But then he opened it, arms wide, and said, 'I can't stand you being upset. Make it right.' And then we fell back into each other like nothing happened."

Dr. Voss nodded. "That was the crux—every fight ended with a kiss so powerful it threw you off balance. So you tolerated the lows because you craved the highs."

Elena closed her eyes, picturing the way his mouth had felt on hers, the way her world had spun upside down and right-side up in the span of a single night. "I thought love was supposed to feel like that," she whispered.

"Love shouldn't bruise you," Dr. Voss replied softly. "Not physically or emotionally."

After the session, Elena walked through the lobby, her heart lighter but wary. She called Nathan on her drive home.

"Hey," he answered. "How did it go?"

She hesitated, then said, "Better. Hard, but better."

He sighed with relief she could almost hear. "Want me to bring home Thai?"

"Perfect," she replied, smiling to herself as she merged onto the street.

That evening, over steaming bowls of curry and jasmine rice, Elena felt a fragile spark of normalcy returning. Nathan laughed at a silly joke she made. Mara joined them briefly via video call—she'd brought chicken soup to the door again—and they chatted about nothing and everything, the kind of easy conversation Elena had missed.

As she scraped the last grains of rice from her bowl, Elena realized something important: the highs with Daniel had taught her what could feel powerful, but the safety with Nathan—and the healing in therapy—were teaching her what should feel right.

She closed her eyes and inhaled the curry's spice and the comfort of good company. She was beginning to believe that pleasure didn't have to sting, that desire didn't have to destroy, and that true connection came from trust, not chaos.

Tomorrow she'd walk into Dr. Voss's office ready to name the lows. To reclaim her story. But tonight, she simply let herself feel whole—if only for the space of one ordinary, perfect evening.