Off Limits - Missing Piece

AUTHOR'S NOTE

This story is a slow-burn romance filled with tension, angst, and complex character relationships.

It contains strong mature content and becomes highly explicit in later chapters, including detailed sexual scenes, rough intimacy, dirty talk, possessiveness, and other adult themes.

Reader discretion is strongly advised.

If you’re not comfortable with intense adult content, this may not be the right book for you.

Thank you for reading ❤️

My palms were slick with sweat and my heart was pounding wildly as I walked down the long corridor toward the apartment door at the very end.

Only the rhythmic click of my heels echoed through the empty hall, a perfect reflection of the chaos inside my head.

Number twenty-four. It should be here.

I quickly dug the note out of my bag just to make sure I wasn’t knocking on the wrong door, then checked the nameplate below the apartment number.

Bennett.

This is it, I thought, pressing the bell.

Within ten seconds, I heard footsteps on the other side, followed by the click of the lock. I have no idea why my heart suddenly sank. At the very least, it felt like I was about to take a final exam.

A shorter man in his late forties with a smile on his face opened the door.

“Miss Holloway?” he asked politely, offering his hand, and I returned the smile.

“That’s right. Angela.”

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Angela. I’m Doctor Marcus. Please come in.”

He stepped aside to let me into the apartment after we shook hands. I glanced around. The small entryway was neat, almost cozy.

“This way, Angela.”

He pointed toward an open door, and I walked in.

The room wasn’t crowded with furniture, but it was tastefully decorated and inviting.

“Make yourself comfortable, Angela. Would you like something to drink?” I heard Marcus say and turned to face him. His eyes were light and warm, his voice genuinely pleasant.

“Just water, please.”

He stepped out.

I took off my jacket and scarf, placing them on the wooden coat rack by the door along with my purse.

See? It’s not that bad. Relax. I told myself, sitting down in a comfortable armchair that was part of a beautiful yellow set.

Heat rushed to my face and palms, so I nervously rubbed my knees, eyeing the numerous certificates and diplomas hanging on the white wall.

My doctor here is quite the qualified expert, I thought with a small smile as he returned with a glass of water.

“I can’t wait for winter to be over, and it only started a few days ago,” he said with a smile, drawing back the drapes. It was still daylight, but everything looked dark and gloomy.

“At least it’s snowing. Might as well go all out,” he winked at me settling into the armchair opposite mine.

“First, let me apologize for not being able to see you sooner. For some reason, this time of year is always the busiest. With the holidays coming up.”

“It’s alright, Doctor. I understand.”

I gave a slight smile, though the psychiatrist clearly noticed my nerves.

“Relax. Today is just about getting to know each other since it’s our first time meeting,” he said softly, clearing his throat.

“So, Angela, what brings you to see me?”

He got straight to the point.

I straightened up in my chair and cleared my throat.

“They say the first step to solving a problem is admitting you have one. So, I guess that’s it.”

He smiled and picked up a small notepad from the table.

“When we spoke on the phone, you mentioned your dreams and a certain emotional block you’re feeling.”

He sighed, scanning his notes.

“Twenty-five years old, a doctor by profession.”

He looked at me.

“You finished university quickly...”

“I started school with an older generation.”

“Are you employed?”

“I am.” I nodded. “I’ve been working as a general practitioner at a clinic for two months now.”

“Nice,” he murmured thoughtfully, returning his gaze to the notepad. “Do you like your job?”

I shrugged and smiled.

“Honestly, I don’t know. I guess it’s still too early to tell.”

“I understand.” He sighed. “Who do you live with?”

“I’m alone right now. My sister lived with me until a few months ago, but she moved to the other side of the city for work.”

“Where are your parents?”

“We don’t have parents. Our mother left us when we were little, and my father and stepmother died in a car accident nine years ago.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, frowning. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

“I do,” I said, clearing my throat, still unable to relax.

“Okay.” He let out a sigh. “Let’s look at these dreams first. What do you dream about, and how often?”

“I dream about all sorts of things. They aren’t necessarily bad dreams, though they can be. Usually, I’m surrounded by crowds of people—on the street, at gatherings—often feeling lost and afraid. And I dream almost every night.”

I shrugged.

“I recently had sleep paralysis, but it hasn’t happened again. Still, the dreams remain. I wake up really tired.”

“Have you noticed a pattern?”

He leaned back, crossing his left leg over his right.

“In the sense that the dreams are heavier after a stressful day, or when you’re exhausted or facing a real-life problem?”

“Not really,” I answered softly. “Regardless of what happens while I’m awake, the dreams are there.”

“And do you see any specific color when you dream?”

“My dreams are mostly grey, gloomy, and lifeless.”

I frowned slightly.

“Maybe blue...”

“What would you paint with the color blue?”

“The night, the cold, melancholy.”

He smiled.

“Most people would have said the sea and the sky.”

The good doctor watched me in silence for a while.

He lowered his gaze and sighed.

“Alright. Would you say you’re happy?”

“No.”

“That answer was categorical.”

He exhaled and studied me.

“How would you describe yourself in three words?”

“I’m responsible,” I shrugged. “Organized and neat.”

“And which three feelings dominate you?”

I smiled.

“I’m lonely, without any particular reason unmotivated, and somewhat sad.”

“Do you feel signs of clinical depression in yourself?”

“In a way.” I nodded, stretching my pressed lips into a smile.

“How does it manifest?”

“Mostly by lacking energy. I’ve never been lazy, but lately it’s hard for me to do anything for myself, even something as simple as going to the hairdresser. I’m often bored, yet I don’t do anything to change it. Everything I must do I perform mechanically, and the rest of the time I simply vegetate.”

“Have you tried to find a hobby?”

“I have, but I lack the will for anything.” I smiled.

“What do you enjoy doing?”

“I love painting and reading. I go to yoga four times a week.”

“Yoga is good.” He muttered and nodded thoughtfully.

“How long has this state lasted for you?”

“Too long. For years, I’d say.”

He looked at me with surprise, as if he hadn’t expected that answer.

“Why did you decide to seek professional help now?”

He asked the logical question to which I didn’t even know the answer myself.

“Honestly, I don’t know. I suppose I grew tired of feeling this way. Maybe it has become a bit more intense lately.”

“How do you feel, Angela?”

“Empty.”

I answered with a sigh, and he leaned his elbows on his knees.

“I’m jumping from topic to topic a little, but it’s necessary since this is the first session and I need to form at least some picture of your life. You said you have a boyfriend?” I nodded. “I assume that relationship doesn’t fulfill you, but I’ll ask anyway?”

“It doesn’t fulfill me.” I smiled.

“Tell me something about him?”

I sighed deeply and shrugged.

“In a way, he’s one of the reasons I came here. Not directly—he doesn’t even know I’m here—but indirectly.” I paused for a moment, but when I saw he was listening carefully, I continued. “He’s really handsome. Fun, witty, smart.” I shrugged. “He’s thirty-three. Young and promising, an oral surgeon. He has his own practice and is quite successful at what he does, but…”

“But?”

“But it seems I’m incapable of feeling anything deeper for him.” I admitted honestly, and he frowned slightly.

“How would you feel if he left you?”

“I think within a day or two I’d forget we were ever together. It’s hard to admit, but something like that would… I don’t know if ‘make me happy’ is the right phrase, but it would definitely bring relief.”

“So we come to that emotional blockade?” He concluded.

“Yes. He really tries hard, he’s attentive with me, and our relationship would be quite good if I was different. He notices it too, so we fight a lot.”

“Do you think it’s him or you? Maybe subconsciously you feel something from him that makes you keep that reserve?”

“There’s that, but I also think I bring out the worst in him myself.”

I smiled, feeling a bit uncomfortable.

“What do you reproach him for the most?”

“He’s insecure and jealous, maybe just because he feels I’m cold. I try, but some things are hard to hide.”

“I see.” He paused for a moment, thinking. “Is this emotional blockade, as you call it, tied only to romantic relationships or…?”

I smiled.

“Doctor, I’m not a sociopath. As a person I’m very emotional. I’m sensitive, too much even—a stray dog on the street can make me cry, not to mention more serious things, abandoned children, the sick, the elderly, the helpless…”

“I understand, Angela.” He nodded quietly and sighed. “So, in short, your problem is that you’re unable to fall in love, and it’s been going on for some time?”

I wasn’t sure if that was a question, but I nodded anyway.

“How long have you and Daniel been together?”

“Since July. Not even six months.”

“That would be enough.” He muttered thoughtfully and wrote something in his notebook. “Let’s go back a little into the past. Tell me, have you ever been in love?”

“I have.” I said softly and swallowed hard. “With my first boyfriend.”

“Alright, tell me about that. When was it, and what happened?”

I definitely felt discomfort whenever I remembered it, but the fact is that sessions like this are meant for that—to talk about things we usually keep silent about.