Compared to the first session, the second one was more silent.
Michael was five minutes early. It's early enough for Lorna to notice, but not too early to seem eager. As he walked in, she looked up from her notes—black slacks, a clean grey shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbow. managed. Written. However, a glimmer appeared in his eyes that had not been present the previous time.
She said, "I wasn't sure you'd come back."
Michael sat opposite her, his face unreadable. "I wasn't either."
Lorna smiled slightly but did not press. There was a quiet understanding in the air between them. She didn't begin with a question this time. She waited.
There was a long silence before he spoke.
"I have no faith in people."
Encouraging him, she nodded. "I had that feeling."
He went on, "But it's not because I don't want to." "It's because I no longer know how to."
Lorna inclined a little. "That's truthful."
"It is pitiful."
"It's human," she gently corrected.
Michael's jaw tensed as he turned away. "I believed Heather to be it. The final game. Not only did I love her, but I also built my future around her. Then, as if nothing had happened, she simply walked away."
He left the words lingering.
She gave me the impression that I wasn't good enough," he added. "And when someone you love does that, it rewrites your perception of reality—it doesn't just hurt."
Lorna remained motionless, observing the change in his shoulders. The way that final word made his voice crack a little.
"I began to doubt everything," he remarked. "My gut feelings. My opinion. even my accomplishments.
Slowly, she nodded. "Heartbreak makes you question everything you've ever built, not just break you."
Startled by the accuracy of her words, he looked into her eyes.
Lorna's tone grew softer. "Michael, you never lost your love for her. You stopped loving the person you were when you were in love with her.
For a long time, he gazed at her, feeling something beneath the surface. "What if that version was the only one with the ability to love?"
She said, "You're still capable." "But you're scared now."
He didn't dispute it. Unlike the last time, he did not scoff or deflect. He just lowered his gaze.
He whispered, "I detest how correct you are."
Lorna gave a soft smile. "I often understand that."
There was silence once more, but it was gentler. less defensive. Michael's shoulders eased back against the chair as his posture eased. He looked at her differently now, as if he had realized that the door he had closed might still have a key.
"I'm not sure what's going to happen next," he said softly.
"You're not required to," she said. "For the time being, we sit in the pieces and determine which ones are still valuable."
Michael gave her a look. "And those who aren't?"
Lorna's head cocked. "We released them."
The session ended with something much more valuable than a resolution.
A start.