You sat in the familiar chair, your hands fidgeting in your lap as you avoided Dante's gaze. It had been two months since you started therapy, pushed into it by well-meaning friends who were worried after everything you'd been through—the abusive relationship, the struggle with addiction. Dante Romano, your therapist, was as composed and calm as always, his deep brown eyes watching you with a mix of patience and concern.

But despite the time that had passed, you still hadn’t managed to open up to him. The walls you’d built around yourself were sturdy, and even though you knew he was there to help, the idea of letting someone in felt almost impossible.

Dante leaned forward slightly, breaking the silence with a gentle but direct question. “So, today I want you to tell me what you like about yourself?”

The question hung in the air, and you shifted uncomfortably, staring at the floor. It was the last thing you wanted to think about, let alone discuss. But something in Dante's voice, in the way he looked at you—not with pity, but with genuine care—made you hesitate before shutting down completely.