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The faint scent of lavender and chamomile from the diffuser in the corner mingled with the musty, calming scent of old books. The soft hum of the air conditioner was the only sound in the room as Rose shifted uncomfortably in her seat. The couch beneath her felt too plush, too soft—almost like it was swallowing her up. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap, the knuckles white from the pressure, and her fingers trembled slightly.
Dr. Lila Thompson sat across from her, the warm, inviting smile on her face barely masking the concern in her eyes. She'd been Rose's therapist for the past year, and today, the room felt heavier than usual, thick with everything unsaid.
"Rose," Dr. Thompson said softly, leaning forward slightly, "You don’t have to rush. Just take your time. I’m here to listen."
Rose took a shaky breath and swallowed, her throat tight. She felt her heart hammering against her chest, like it wanted to escape. It had taken everything in her to come here today, to face these feelings head-on. She stared at her shoes, the worn edges of her sneakers reminding her of the long, difficult road she'd been walking.
"I... I don't even know where to start," Rose mumbled, voice quiet. She could feel the familiar tightness in her chest again, the one that came every time she tried to talk about this. "I guess it starts with the fact that no one ever listens. Like, really listens. It’s like... no one really sees me."
Her eyes drifted toward the window, her gaze unfocused, as if staring through the glass could make the weight of her words lighter. She wrapped her arms around herself, as though holding onto the last bit of warmth she had left.
Dr. Thompson nodded, encouraging her to continue. "What do you mean, Rose? Who doesn’t listen?"
Rose took another deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment, trying to steady herself. "My mom, Iris... She always tells me forgiveness is for me. But how is it for me if it’s not earned? If the people who’ve hurt me don’t even acknowledge what they’ve done, how am I supposed to just... let it go? She tells me to forgive for myself, but all I feel is like I’m supposed to let them walk all over me."
Her voice cracked on the last sentence, and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat, pulling her knees to her chest. Her heartbeat thrummed in her ears, and the room felt both too big and too small at the same time.
Dr. Thompson’s voice was steady but gentle. “I hear you, Rose. It’s hard when you’re told to forgive without the other person doing their part. How do you feel when Iris says that to you?”
Rose let out a frustrated breath, her hands now gripping the fabric of her pants. "It just makes me feel like I’m the one who’s broken. Like I’m the one who’s wrong for not forgiving, even though they’ve never even acknowledged the hurt they’ve caused. It’s like... I don’t get to have my pain. Like I’m just supposed to brush it off and pretend it doesn’t matter."
Her chest tightened, the ache of years of unspoken words threatening to spill over. She bit her lip, trying to keep the tears at bay.
"And then there’s my sister, Lily," Rose continued, her voice growing quieter. "She’s always telling me I’m too sensitive, that I’m overreacting. But she’s the one who’s done so many things to hurt me, and no one ever calls her out. I’m the one who’s treated like I’m the problem. But I’m not. I’m not. I’ve had so many people treat me like I’m invisible, like I don’t matter. And it’s exhausting. I feel like I’m just supposed to take it. But I can’t. Not anymore."
She shifted again, her legs starting to ache from the way she was curled up on the couch. The weight in her chest felt suffocating. "It’s like everyone around me has this image of who I am. They don’t see the real me, the person who’s been hurting all these years. They just see this broken version of me they’ve made up in their heads. And it’s like they don’t care about the real pain."
Dr. Thompson leaned in, her expression warm yet understanding. "Rose, it sounds like you’ve been carrying the weight of everyone else’s expectations, and none of them have taken the time to understand the real you. It’s understandable that it’s affecting you the way it is. It’s okay to be angry about that. Your pain matters."
Rose nodded, the tears that had been threatening to fall finally breaking free. She wiped her face with the sleeve of her jacket, the familiar sting of betrayal still sharp in her chest. "I just want to be seen. I want someone to understand me. But they don’t. And it’s like no matter what I do, I’m always the one who’s wrong. I’m always the one who’s expected to forgive, to move on. But... I can’t. I can’t keep pretending everything’s okay."
Dr. Thompson nodded, her voice calm but firm. "I hear you, Rose. And you don’t have to keep pretending. You’re allowed to feel the hurt. You’re allowed to stand up for yourself and set boundaries. You don’t have to carry other people’s mistakes or expectations anymore."
Rose let out a shaky breath, feeling the tiniest bit of relief, but it was a long way to go. She wiped away the last of her tears, her heart still heavy, but not quite as suffocated. She was still Rose Hunter Long, a woman, a wife to Jake, and for the first time in a long while, she felt like maybe, just maybe, she could start healing. One step at a time.