Gemotions

The receptionist had called her name, and Eleanor had nearly bolted. She’d spent the last week agonizing over the appointment, replaying their childhood encounters in her mind. Now, standing at the threshold, she was paralyzed.

He’d changed. His features were softened, his eyes held a depth she hadn’t seen before. But beneath the surface, the memories, the sting of humiliation, the feeling of being perpetually inadequate, were still fresh.

"Come in, Eleanor," he said, his voice gentle. She stepped inside, the weight of a lifetime of suppressed feelings pressing down on her chest. All of her old walls were coming back up.