Her counselor, Dr. Ramesh, was already there. He wasn't scribbling on a notepad or staring at a clock. He was just sitting, calmly, as if he had all the time in the world.
That night, she didn't spiral. She wrote down three things she remembered about her dad. And in the morning, she drove back to Towne Lake Parkway—not to cancel, but to show up. thriveworks counseling & psychiatry woodstock
Driving home, the rain had softened to a drizzle. She didn't turn on the radio. She thought about leaves. She thought about her father's hands—calloused from working on his old truck. And for the first time, the grief didn't feel like drowning. Her counselor, Dr
"Tell me about the rain," he said, instead of "How are you?" He was just sitting, calmly, as if he
He leaned forward. "You're not broken, Nora. You're just bent. And we can straighten things out here. But it takes showing up."
The office was warm. Not the fake, corporate warmth of a bank, but a genuine, lamplit kind of warm. A receptionist named Chloe offered her a tea without being asked. "First session back?" Chloe asked gently. Nora just nodded.
When she got home, Mark was making dinner. He looked up, nervous. "Well?"
