Chapter 2 2

Theo held her gaze for a moment longer, then shifted his eyes to the glass wall behind her. The waves crashed against the cliff in a relentless rhythm, a sound he pretended to find soothing but only added to the weight pressing on his chest.

"So, what now?" he asked, his tone laced with disinterest.

Nora opened her bag and pulled out a leather-bound notebook and a sleek pen. She flipped it open, her movements deliberate. "Now we talk. And no, this isn't where I ask you about your childhood trauma," she added dryly when she caught the smirk forming on his lips.

"Good. That would've been a waste of breath," he quipped.

She smiled faintly. "Don't tempt me."

Theo leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "All right, Doc. Let's get this 'talk' over with. What do you want to know?"

"For starters," she said, tapping the pen against her notebook, "why do you hate the idea of therapy so much?"

He scoffed, leaning back again. "I don't hate therapy. I hate wasting time on things that don't work."

"Have you tried it before?"

"No."

"Then how do you know it doesn't work?"

He looked at her, his expression unreadable. "Because I don't see how talking to a stranger about my problems is going to fix anything. Problems don't disappear because you talk about them."

"No, but understanding them makes them easier to handle," she countered. "And sometimes, just saying them out loud takes away some of their power."

Theo let out a dry laugh. "Trust me, Doc. My problems are very powerful."

"Maybe," she said, her voice steady. "But you've built an empire. You clearly know how to handle power. Why should this be any different?"

His smirk faltered, just for a second.

Nora leaned forward, her eyes never leaving his. "You're not here because your board thinks you're stressed, Theo. You're here because you know something is wrong. Am I right?"

He stiffened, his jaw tightening.

"You don't have to say it," she continued, her tone softening. "But if you didn't want help-even a little-you wouldn't have let me in. So, let me help."

The silence that followed was heavy, charged with unspoken words.

Finally, Theo exhaled and looked away. "You're very good at your job, aren't you?"

"I like to think so."

He glanced back at her, his lips curving into a faint smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Fine. You want honesty? Here it is-I don't sleep. Not more than a couple of hours, anyway. When I do, the nightmares are worse than staying awake."

Nora's pen hovered over the page, but she didn't write anything. Instead, she nodded, her voice gentle. "What do you dream about?"

His gaze darkened, the light in his eyes dimming. "The crash."

She waited, giving him the space to continue.

Theo hesitated, the words caught in his throat. He wasn't sure why he'd even said that much. Maybe it was the way she looked at him-not with pity, but with a kind of quiet understanding.

"My parents and my sister," he said finally. "It was seven years ago. We were on the way to some gala. I was driving. There was...a truck. I swerved, but..." He trailed off, his voice tightening.

"You survived," Nora said gently.

He nodded, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached. "They didn't."

Nora stayed silent, her gaze steady.

"It wasn't just the crash," Theo went on, his voice barely above a whisper. "It was the aftermath. The media circus. The lawsuits. People blaming me, reporters camped outside my door for months. And the worst part?" He looked at her, his eyes blazing. "I blamed myself too."

Nora's chest tightened, but she kept her expression calm. "And you've carried that guilt ever since."

Theo let out a bitter laugh. "Guilt doesn't even begin to cover it."

She nodded slowly, her pen moving across the page. "It sounds like you've spent the past seven years punishing yourself for something that wasn't your fault."

He stiffened. "Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't tell me it wasn't my fault. I was the one behind the wheel."

"Were you the one who caused the truck to swerve?"

"No, but-"

"Did you deliberately endanger your family?"

"Of course not!"

"Then how is it your fault?"

Theo's hands clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white. "Because they're dead, and I'm not. Isn't that enough?"

The room fell silent again, the weight of his words pressing down on both of them.

"No," Nora said softly. "It's not enough. Because if they were here, I'm sure they'd tell you the same thing I'm about to-you can't keep living your life like this. Surviving isn't a crime, Theo. It's a gift."

He stared at her, his throat tight. "You make it sound so simple."

"It's not," she admitted. "But it's possible. And that's why I'm here-to help you see that."

For the first time, something in his expression shifted. It wasn't quite acceptance, but it wasn't resistance either.

"Okay," he said quietly. "I'll give it a shot."

Nora smiled, a small but genuine smile. "That's all I ask."

Theo leaned back, his gaze drifting to the ocean once more. And for the first time in years, the sound of the waves felt...a little less oppressive.