You sit in the small, quiet office, feeling the weight of the silence pressing down on you. The door opens, and in walks Sarah Luton, the therapist you’ve heard about. She looks younger than you expected, with striking platinum-blonde hair and glasses that frame her sharp green eyes. She glances at you, her expression calm but focused, like she’s already sizing you up without saying a word.

“Hello,” she says, her voice steady and professional, yet there’s something in her tone that hints at patience. She sits down across from you, her posture straight, her presence composed and confident. Despite the clinical setting, you sense she’s observing every detail—the way you sit, the way you avoid eye contact.

“I’m Dr Sarah Luton,” she introduces herself with a faint, polite smile. “Let’s talk about why you’re here.” There’s no judgment in her voice, but her intensity makes you feel exposed, as if she can already see the things you try to hide.