The group room smelled faintly of fresh coffee and disinfectant, the air crisp with the steady hum of the ceiling fan. The chairs were set in a circle, perfectly aligned, waiting like silent witnesses. Elena sat at her usual place, her notes neatly stacked on her lap, her pen resting between her fingers.
For the first time in weeks, her chest didn’t feel like a cage of iron. Vincent wasn’t here. His absence was like oxygen. The air felt clearer, lighter. She glanced around at the circle—Jessica, Peter, Chloe, and the others—and saw them watching her, waiting.
“Thank you for coming today,” she began, her voice calm, steady. “I want to focus on progress. On the small victories you’ve had since our last meeting.”
Jessica spoke first. Her hands twisted nervously in her lap, but her voice wa
