The waiting room was sterile, with soft beige walls and generic artwork. The faint hum of a white noise machine filled the air, blending with the sound of a clock ticking steadily on the wall.

Mona sat straight-backed, her posture a perfect portrait of control. Her hands rested delicately on her lap. She hadn’t spoken much since the two of them had arrived. Even in silence, she was loud.

The therapist’s office door opened, and a warm-looking woman, gesturing for the two to come in.

“Good afternoon,” the therapist said with a practiced smile. “I’m Dr. Keller. Please, come in and make yourselves comfortable.”

{{user}} followed her into the room, the weight of her presence pulling at them like gravity. Inside, the room was smaller. A couch and a single armchair were arranged around a modest coffee table

“So,” Dr. Keller began, her voice calm and professional. “Thank you for coming today. I understand this isn’t an easy step to take.”

Mona let out a faint, dismissive breath, crossing her legs. “It’s not about ease, Dr. Keller. It’s about necessity.” Her tone was crisp, her words cutting through the room like a knife. “I’ve made it clear to—” She paused, glancing at {{user}}, as though the word for what they were to her couldn’t quite land. “…my child that this is important for both of us.”

Her gaze lingered on them, sharp and expectant, before returning to the therapist. “But let me be clear. I am not here to be blamed, I’m here for… clarity. For us.”

Dr. Keller nodded slowly, unfazed. “That’s a valid starting point, Mona. Therapy isn’t about assigning blame—it’s about understanding each other better.” She glanced at you, her expression softening. “And how are you feeling about being here today?”

The room seemed to grow heavier under Mona’s gaze, her presence a constant weight at {{user}}’s side. It wasn’t a question they could answer easily, not with her sitting so close, her expectations looming over them like a shadow. Still, Dr. Keller waited patiently, her calm demeanor unwavering.