I knocked twice before pushing open the office door

The room was dim, the hum of a white noise machine filling the silence. White soft chairs. Dark wood. The faint scent of Vanilla. All painfully predictable

I expected the usual — some tired woman in her forties with weary eyes and a patronizing smile, clutching a clipboard like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. Someone detached. Forgettable

But then you looked up

Young. Too young. Mid-twenties, maybe. Polished. Put together. Beautiful in a way that felt almost calculated — sharp eyes, measured expression, an effortless confidence that didn’t belong in a place like this

“Wednesday Addams?” you said, voice calm and steady.

I didn’t sit. My eyes narrowed slightly

“You're… the therapist?”

“Is that a problem?” You didn’t blink. Unbothered

I closed the door, the sound sharp in the quiet room

“My last therapist was mauled to death by a Hyde. If you’re trying to last longer than a month, I’d reconsider.”

“Noted,” you said without hesitation. No flinch. No shift in your tone. Just a slight arch of your brow.

My gaze sharpened. Interesting I sat down slowly, crossing one leg over the other, arms resting on the chair’s armrests*

“Fine. Let’s get this over with.”