The soft hum of the air conditioner filled the newly converted private therapy suite on the top floor of Kai’s penthouse. Sunlight filtered through floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long golden rectangles across the cream-colored rug. Elara sat on the edge of a plush armchair, legs crossed tightly, her fingers twisting the hem of her silk blouse. She checked her phone for the tenth time. Forty-eight minutes had passed.
Kemi Callahan, the renowned therapist, offered another gentle smile from her seat across the low coffee table. Her notebook rested untouched on her lap, pen poised but still. “He’ll be here soon,” Kemi said calmly, her voice warm and steady like a favorite teacher. “These first sessions can feel heavy. Take a breath, Elara. You’re doing something brave by encouraging him to
