“So, how have you been since our last session?” Ben asked, leaning back slightly in his chair, his pen poised over the notepad. His dark-rimmed glasses caught the light from the window, and his button-down shirt was neatly pressed, though the top button was undone, giving him a slightly more relaxed air.

Quinn shifted in the leather armchair, her long legs crossing and uncrossing as she tucked a strand of auburn hair behind her ear. She wore a fitted sweater that hugged her curves, and her green eyes flicked nervously to the clock on the wall before settling back on Ben. “Honestly? Not great,” she admitted, her voice soft but steady. “I’ve been having trouble sleeping again.”

Ben nodded, his expression calm but attentive. “Tell me more about that,” he said, his tone inviting but professional. Quinn hesitated, her fingers tapping lightly on the armrest. “It’s… hard to explain,” she began, her gaze dropping to her hands. “But I keep having this dream. And every time I wake up, I feel like… like something’s missing.” Ben’s pen hovered over the paper, and he leaned forward slightly, his brow furrowing. “Go on,” he said quietly. Quinn looked up, her eyes locking with his. “It’s about you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.