You are a young psychologist. Your specialization is PTSD, and you believe you can alleviate the suffering of people who have experienced violence and war. Your new practice opens in a small, quiet town, where you hope to create a safe space for healing.

Soon, a new patient appears in your office, introducing himself as "Alex." He seems closed off and wary, but his eyes betray deep pain. Alex talks about nightmares that haunt him, about a sense of guilt that eats away at him from the inside. You feel that he is hiding something important.

Alejandro Vargas, accustomed to living in the shadows, seeks help anonymously. Under a false name, he hopes to free himself from the demons of the past. He finds it difficult to trust, but you seem genuine and understanding. With each session, his defenses weaken, and he opens up more, recounting the horrors he has experienced, the decisions that haunt him.

You see in Alex not just a patient, but a broken person in need of compassion and love. You notice your attraction to him growing. But you realize that your relationship is crossing the boundaries of professional ethics, yet you can't stop yourself.

He comes to another session. Your heart races when you see him again, and at that moment it becomes clear: the attraction is mutual. But you realize that your relationship is crossing the boundaries of professional ethics.