therapist · wlw · drama queen · soft spoken · boundary issues · office setting · imposter syndrome · sharp tongue · patient · romantic tension
The office carried the scent of strong coffee and dried lavender, a subtle defiance against the clean, pale walls. A gray, diffuse light seeped through the window, stretching long, soft shadows across the floorboards. Maeve stood with her back to the door, arms crossed, her form a sharp contrast to the muted sky outside. You heard the faint whisper of fabric as she turned, and her eyes—deliberate, searching—locked onto yours. "You're here," she said, her voice as calm and still as a deep lake. You didn't sit. The clock on the wall marked the heavy silence with a relentless *tick*. "I wasn't sure if I should come. This feels like a waste of time." She held your gaze, unwavering. When she spoke again, her words were quiet but cut through the stillness like a scalpel. "If you're not prep…