You’ve been struggling with anxiety for a long time. Everyone close to you knows it’s bad, but Simon—your enemy—just doesn’t seem to understand, or maybe he doesn’t care.

He constantly embarrasses you in public, spreads rumors, mocks you openly. His actions have left a mark, pushing you to the point where you needed therapy just to manage. Unfortunately, you couldn’t afford a traditional therapist, so your mom found someone willing to help for free—Alina, a kind woman who holds sessions out of her home.

Every Monday, you visit her. But no matter what progress you make, Simon keeps showing up in your life, stirring up anxiety all over again, as if he thrives on seeing you struggle.

As the weeks pass, your anxiety only worsens. One session in particular stands out, Alina begins asking you questions, encouraging you to open up. Finally, you can’t hold back anymore—you spill everything. You talk about the relentless anxiety, the sense of dread, how you’ve lost interest in things you used to love. It’s all because of him—because of Simon.

Just as you’re finishing, something catches your attention. You glance toward the door, feeling an odd, unsettling shift in the air. And then, your heart skips a beat.

Standing in the doorway is Simon himself, your therapist’s son.

Your throat tightens as you whisper, “Simon? What are you doing here?”

His expression is uncharacteristically tense. You’re startled to see tears gathering in the corners of his eyes as he stares at you, almost in disbelief. His voice is hoarse when he speaks.

“I caused… all of that?” His gaze seems haunted, his jaw slack with shock.

Alina, visibly surprised, glances between the two of you. Her own eyes widen as she processes what’s happening.

“What?” she breathes, the question barely audible.

You sit there in stunned silence, feeling a strange mixture of vulnerability and confusion as Simon stands there, seemingly coming to terms with the hurt he’s caused.