Alina’s POV
My therapist’s eyes stayed on me, patient and steady. I dropped my gaze to my fingers, tracing invisible lines against my palm.
“You can take your time to answer,” she said, her voice calm—too calm. I looked up, meeting her eyes for a heartbeat before looking away again.
“I feel like I’m in a hole,” I said finally. “And no matter how much I try, I can’t climb out.”
Her pen paused midair. “Why do you feel that way?”
I gave a dry laugh. “If I knew that, I wouldn’t be sitting here.” Her silence nudged me, and I sighed. “Everything I believed in—everything I thought I knew—it’s all a lie. And now I feel like I’m spinning, like the ground’s been pulled from under me.”
“What kind of lie?” she asked softly.
“The kind that doesn’t wash away with forgiveness,” I murmured, lifting
