I hadn't planned on running into Skyrim today. It had been weeks since I last saw him—weeks since that first, raw session in his office when I poured my heart out about Sinister. He listened quietly as I spoke, offering advice that I didn't want to hear: "Stay away from him. That's not love. You deserve better." His words stung at the time, and I didn't want to admit he was right. But deep down, I knew I had to walk away from Sinister. Yet, I didn't.
Since then, I had avoided Skyrim's office, and he checked in on me a few times, but I couldn't face him. I wasn't ready for the reality he'd shoved in front of me. The truth was too hard to swallow.
But this morning, after weeks of uncertainty, I met him.
I wandered into my favorite café, the kind with a small, cozy atmosphere that made it easy to forget the world outside. The air smelled of freshly brewed coffee and pastries. I was just about to grab my coffee and settle into a quiet corner when my eyes fell on a familiar figure.
There he was. Skyrim. Sitting alone at a table by the window, flipping through some papers, his black turtleneck fitting him perfectly, his tousled hair catching the light in a way that made my heart do a little flip. For a second, I stood there frozen, not knowing whether to approach or leave.
I knew it was wrong to feel the way I did—why should I feel this pull toward him when I had so many unresolved feelings about Sinister? But somehow, in that moment, it was Skyrim who seemed like the steady, calming presence I needed.
But then, as I walked closer, I caught sight of his eyes darting to my neck, and my stomach dropped. I'd tried to cover the hickeys from Sinister with makeup, but it hadn't worked. The foundation had only made the marks worse, and I'd been forced to cover them up with a scarf.
I instantly felt self-conscious, wishing I could disappear. Had Skyrim noticed? Was he looking at them? I couldn't tell. My mind started racing. Was he judging me? I wanted to cover my neck, but I knew it would only make things more awkward.
He looked up just as I was about to turn away. His eyes locked onto mine, and there was no mistaking it—there was a flicker there, something deeper than simple recognition. Was it... anger? No. That couldn't be it. My mind must've been playing tricks on me. But for just a split second, I thought I saw the flash of something in his gaze that I couldn't name. Maybe it was concern. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was something else entirely. But whatever it was, it made me pause.
"Hey," I greeted him, my voice a little softer than usual. I couldn't help but feel that strange tension hanging in the air between us.
He gave me a small, almost imperceptible smile, but there was something in the way his eyes lingered on me that made me think he was seeing through the surface. Seeing more than I wanted him to.
"Hey," he replied, his voice calm but his expression unreadable. "Everything alright?"
I took a deep breath, unsure where to start. How could I possibly explain everything to him now? I sat down slowly, my hands nervously wrapping around my coffee cup. "I—I met him again," I said, my voice faltering as the words left my mouth. The truth was harder than I had expected.
He didn't speak immediately. Instead, Skyrim just watched me, his gaze steady, almost like he was waiting for me to explain more. I could feel the weight of his silence, as if he was letting me gather the courage to say what I had been avoiding.
"You've been keeping your distance," he finally said, his tone even, but there was something in the way he spoke that told me he wasn't as indifferent as he appeared. "How's... everything going with him?"
His question seemed to hang in the air, and my throat tightened. I wanted to give him some reassurance, to tell him that I was fine, but I wasn't. "It's complicated," I whispered, looking away from him.
I could feel his eyes still on me, but there was no judgment there—only an unspoken understanding. I tried to hide how much his presence affected me, but it was impossible. It always had been.
The silence stretched on, but then Skyrim leaned back in his chair slightly, his gaze softening. "Are you still writing your thoughts down?" he asked, shifting the topic gently.
I nodded, grateful for the change in direction. "Yeah. It helps. Writing... it's the only thing that keeps my head from spinning."
"I'm glad to hear that," he said with a smile. "It'll help you figure things out. One day at a time."
Before speaking, Skyrim stared at me for a while, his gaze thoughtful and serious, before asking, "Do you know what your problem is, Grace?"
I felt a bit uncomfortable under the weight of his scrutiny but forced myself to smile. "What is it?" I asked, a laugh escaping me.
"You're so smart, you're stupid," he said, his tone casual, yet the words struck me like a blow.
I chuckled nervously. "What does that even mean?"
"You overthink everything. You think yourself out of things you already know." He leaned back in his chair, his eyes piercing as they met mine. "You know what's wrong, Grace, but you won't admit it to yourself. You keep complicating things."
I hesitated for a second, feeling a little defensive. "So, you think I should break up with Sin?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it out loud made it more real.
Skyrim sighed deeply, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm not supposed to tell you what to do as a therapist," he said, his voice turning serious, "But, in all honesty, I can't believe you're still with him. What a arsehole!!."
I blinked in shock. "Wow! I can't believe you called Sin an arsehole!" I exclaimed, my voice tinged with disbelief. "But you're right, he's a jerk."
Skyrim raised his hand, cutting me off. "Actually, I didn't call him an arsehole. I called you one," he corrected, his tone sharp. "If you continue to stay with Sinister, you are the arsehole, Grace."
The words hit me harder than I expected. "What? I'm not a jerk! The arsehole is Sinister!" I protested, my heart pounding.
"At this point, Grace," Skyrim said, his voice calm but firm, "if you continue to associate with Sinister knowing everything you know, you are the arsehole."
The word hung in the air like a weight, sinking into me slowly. "Am I the arsehole?" I repeated to myself, the question echoing inside my mind.
Skyrim's voice broke through my thoughts, a reminder I couldn't ignore. "Listen, Grace," he said softly, "At this point in therapy, we're just wasting time talking about Sinister and how messed up he is. Honestly, you're just using him to distract yourself from your real problems. The real issue here isn't Sinister—it's you. You need to look at the deeper wounds inside of you that make you think it's okay to stay in a relationship that's clearly damaging.
"If you're in a toxic relationship, you need to stop asking, 'Why is this person doing this to me?' or 'Why is this person acting like this?' Stop questioning them. Stop wasting your time trying to figure out if they're a jerk, a sociopath, a narcissist. Instead, ask yourself: Why do I feel like I deserve this? What is it inside of you that's keeping you stuck in this pattern?"
I felt the weight of his words. He was right. For so long, I had focused on Sinister, on trying to make sense of his actions, his toxicity. But all along, I had avoided the real question: Why was I letting myself stay in this situation? "because I Love him?"
Skyrim's tone softened. "I truly believe you deserve so much more than this, Grace. You deserve better than you're settling for. And I don't just mean better in terms of relationships—I mean yourself. You deserve to know your worth and stop allowing people who treat you badly to stick around. You are a stunningly beautiful woman, Grace, inside and out. You have a kind and sensitive soul. My words might sound harsh, but I hope they'll help ease some of the pain you're carrying."
His words hit me differently this time. I could feel the sincerity in his voice, and something inside of me shifted. Maybe it was time to stop hiding from the truth. Maybe it was time to confront the elephant in the room.
But that realization came with a deep sense of fear, too. What if I made the wrong choice? What if I let go of something I thought was meant to be?