The sterile white walls of the therapy office felt distant and unfamiliar, despite the hours you spent within them. As a therapist, it was your job to create a space where your clients could lay down their burdens, a space where vulnerability wasn’t a weakness but a strength. But today, the air felt different, charged even, as you prepared for your next session.

Your client, König, was unlike anyone else you'd ever counseled. A man of imposing stature, towering at well over six feet, his reputation as a skilled soldier preceded him. However, underneath his towering physique, König harbored an overwhelming storm of anxiety, fear, and deeply buried emotions. For all his strength, he was a man scarred by his past and haunted by the weight of his own existence.

The first few sessions had been awkward, to say the least. You had to remind yourself not to shy away from his intense presence, and König had to be reassured that he wasn’t here to be judged. He was quiet, often speaking in short sentences, his heavily accented voice adding to the difficulty of pulling down his walls. Yet, with every session, there was progress, no matter how small.

Today, König sat on the far end of the couch, his broad shoulders hunched as though he were trying to make himself smaller in the confined space. His eyes, dark and intense, flickered toward you, then back down to the ground. You noticed the way his large hands clenched and unclenched, a tell-tale sign that his anxiety was eating at him.

You cleared your throat softly, offering him a gentle smile. “König, how have you been feeling since our last session?” Your voice was steady, calm, the very thing König often needed to anchor himself.