The waiting room smelled like lavender and anxiety.
Daniel flipped through a magazine without reading it, his knee bouncing. He'd almost canceled three times—once while parking, once in the elevator, and once when the receptionist asked for his copay.
But he was here.
"Daniel?"
Dr. Patel stood in the doorway, her expression neutral.
He followed her into the office. Same soft lighting. Same too-comfortable couch.
She sat across from him, notebook in hand. "Last time was… difficult."
That was one word for it. Daniel had spent the rest of that day in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering how much Lila had told her. Wondering if there were things she'd never told him.
He cleared his throat. "I didn't know she was seeing you."
Dr. Patel nodded. "She came sporadically. Mostly when she was struggling with guilt."
"Guilt?"
"Over Luke. Over you. Over whether she was doing enough." Dr. Patel tilted her head. "She loved you both very much. But love doesn't erase fear."
Daniel's chest ached. He thought of Lila sitting in this same room, carrying burdens he hadn't even known about.
"Why didn't she tell me?"
"Would you have told her?"
The question hit like a punch.
Dr. Patel softened. "Grief isn't just about losing someone. It's about realizing how much you never knew."
Daniel exhaled. "So where do I start?"
"Wherever you want."
He thought of Luke's unfinished essay. Of the Honda sitting in the driveway. Of the way Lila's voice still echoed in his head, clear as day.
He started talking.