Prologue: Session
The rain tapped softly against the window, a quiet rhythm under the hum of the office heater. Andrew sat stiffly on the couch, fingers worrying the edge of his sling. He looked tired—physically, yes, but more than that, like he’d been carrying something heavy for years and only now had a place to set it down.
Dr. Halden gave him a gentle nod. “Andrew… you said you wanted to start today.”
He swallowed, eyes flicking briefly to Chloe before he spoke.
“Yeah. I… I guess I should.” A breath. A shaky one. “When Chloe first came to our school, people talked. A lot. They said she thought she was better than everyone. That she was weird. That she didn’t fit.”
Chloe’s shoulders tightened, but she didn’t interrupt.
Andrew continued, voice low. “I believed them at first. I didn’t know her. I didn’t know anything. Then the teacher assigned us together for that stupid history project.” A small, almost embarrassed smile tugged at his mouth. “And I learned the truth.”
He looked at Chloe fully now, not flinching from the emotion in her eyes.
“She wasn’t stuck-up. She wasn’t weird. She was hurting. And she was trying so hard to pretend she wasn’t.” His voice cracked. “And I realized I’d always choose her. Not because I know her story. Not because I feel responsible. But because I love her. I always have.”
Chloe’s breath hitched, her fingers curling into her sleeves.
Dr. Halden turned to her. “Chloe… what comes up for you hearing that?”
Chloe wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. “I didn’t want to move,” she whispered. “My parents were divorcing, and everything felt like it was breaking at once. My mom thought a new school would be a fresh start, but it just felt like losing everything twice.”
She looked at Andrew, eyes soft and shining. “And then I met him. And suddenly school wasn’t so scary. Life wasn’t so heavy. He made things better without even trying.”
Her voice trembled, but she didn’t look away.
“I always chose him too. Not because he saved me. Not because he got hurt. But because I love him.”
For a moment, the room felt too full—of truth, of fear, of something fragile and warm.
Dr. Halden let the silence settle before she spoke. “You both said something very similar. You both chose each other. But now we need to talk about the accident.”
Andrew’s expression shifted—confusion, then strain. “I don’t remember much,” he admitted. “Just… Chloe. And then a white bed. And pain. And her voice somewhere far away.”
Chloe’s hands tightened in her lap. “It changed a lot,” she said quietly. “For both of us.”
Andrew looked at her, searching her face. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You almost died,” she whispered. “That changes everything.”
The therapist leaned forward slightly. “Then let’s talk about what changed… and what you’re both afraid of now.”
Chloe hesitated when Dr. Halden turned her way again. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, a nervous habit Andrew knew by heart. Her voice was soft when it finally came.
“There’s something I’ve been noticing,” she said. “Since the accident.”
Andrew’s head lifted slightly, like he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear it but needed to.
Chloe took a breath. “He stops at the road now. Every time. Even when there’s no cars. He just… freezes for a second. Like his body remembers what happened even if his mind doesn’t.”
Andrew’s fingers tightened around the edge of the couch cushion.
“And he keeps looking over his shoulder,” she continued, her voice trembling. “Not like he’s scared. More like he’s checking if I’m still there. Like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he doesn’t keep me in sight.”
Andrew swallowed hard. “I didn’t realize I was doing that.”
“I know,” she whispered. “That’s why I’m saying it.”
Dr. Halden nodded gently. “And how does that make you feel, Chloe?”
Chloe looked at Andrew, really looked at him — the bruises fading, the exhaustion still lingering in his eyes, the way he held himself like he was trying not to break anything else.
“It makes me sad,” she admitted. “Because I can see how much it changed him. How much it scared him. And I hate that he carries that because of me.”
Andrew opened his mouth, but she shook her head softly, stopping him.
“But…” Her voice steadied. “I’m glad he’s still Andrew. The Andrew I fell in love with. The one who cares too much. The one who looks back to make sure I’m okay. The one who’d rather get hurt than let someone else be.”
Her eyes glistened, but she didn’t look away.
“I’m glad he’s still him,” she said again, quieter this time. “Even after everything.”
Andrew’s breath caught — not from pain, but from something deeper, something raw.
Dr. Halden let the silence settle, warm and heavy.
“Both of you,” she said softly, “are carrying pieces of the accident in different ways. And both of you are trying to protect each other from the weight of it.”
Andrew blinked hard, his jaw tightening.
Chloe wiped her cheek with her sleeve.
“And that,” Dr. Halden continued, “is where we begin healing.”
Andrew kept his eyes on the floor, pretending to listen calmly, pretending he wasn’t unraveling inside.
She noticed. Of course she noticed. Chloe always noticed.
He didn’t mean to stop at every crosswalk. He didn’t mean to freeze when a car rolled too close. He didn’t mean to look over his shoulder every few seconds just to make sure she hadn’t vanished.
But hearing her say it out loud made something twist in his chest.
I’m scaring her again.
I’m making her worry.
I’m supposed to be the one protecting her, not giving her more reasons to be afraid.
He kept his face still, jaw relaxed, shoulders steady. He’d gotten good at that—looking fine even when his thoughts were sprinting in circles.
She thinks I’m different now.
She thinks I’m broken.
What if I am?
He didn’t want her to see the panic that still lived under his ribs, the way the sound of brakes made his heart slam against his chest, the way he woke up at night thinking he was still lying on that white hospital bed.
He didn’t want her to know how much he replayed the moment he pushed her out of the way—how sometimes he wondered if he’d hesitated, if he’d been fast enough, if he’d done it right.
He didn’t want her to know he’d do it again without thinking.
But then she said it— “I’m glad he’s still the Andrew I fell in love with.”
And everything inside him stopped.
For a second, the noise in his head went quiet. For a second, he wasn’t overthinking. For a second, he just… felt.
He didn’t let it show, not fully. He kept his breathing even, kept his expression soft but controlled. But inside, her words hit him like sunlight after weeks of rain.
She still sees me.
She still wants me.
Even like this.
He didn’t know what to do with that kind of hope. He didn’t know if he deserved it. But he held onto it anyway.
Quietly.
Carefully.
Like something fragile he wasn’t ready to lose.
