Christabel met someone.
Not Damien.
Someone new.
Someone who didn't know her past.
Someone who saw her as she was now.
And everything changed.
---
His name was Dr. Marcus Webb.
Not the Marcus from her past. A different Marcus. A therapist. A specialist in burnout and trauma.
Dr. Reid had recommended him.
"He's good," she said. "He's helped a lot of people."
"I don't need help."
"Everyone needs help."
"I'm not everyone."
"No." Dr. Reid smiled. "You're not. That's why I'm sending you to him."
---
The office was in the city.
Not the fancy part. The real part. The kind of place where people went when they were tired of pretending.
Christabel sat in the waiting room.
Her hands were shaking.
Her heart was pounding.
She hadn't felt this nervous since the first time she met Damien.
"Mrs. Moreau?"
She looked up.
A man was standing in the doorway.
Tall. Dark hair. Kind eyes. A face that looked like it had seen pain and survived.
"Dr. Webb."
"Please. Marcus."
---
She followed him into the office.
The room was warm. Bookshelves. A couch. A chair.
"Sit anywhere."
She sat on the couch.
He sat across from her.
"So," he said. "Dr. Reid tells me you're burning out."
"I'm fine."
"You don't look fine."
"I'm tired."
"More than tired?"
She was quiet for a moment.
"I don't know who I am anymore."
---
He nodded.
"That's a good place to start."
---
The session lasted an hour.
Christabel talked. Marcus listened.
Not the way Dr. Reid listened. Different. More present. More human.
He didn't take notes. Didn't interrupt. Didn't judge.
He just listened.
"You've been through a lot," he said.
"Everyone has."
"Not everyone has built cities. Not everyone has faced death. Not everyone has killed."
She looked at him.
"Does that scare you?"
"Should it?"
"Most people would say yes."
"I'm not most people."
---
She went back the next week.
And the week after.
And the week after that.
Each session, she talked a little more.
Each session, she felt a little lighter.
"You're different," Damien said one night.
"Different how?"
"Lighter."
"I'm trying."
"Trying what?"
"To figure out who I am."
---
He didn't ask about Marcus.
Not because he wasn't curious. Because he was afraid of the answer.
But the questions built inside him.
Like pressure in a pipe.
Waiting to burst.
---
The fight started on a Tuesday.
Christabel came home late. Later than usual. Marcus had asked her to stay. Something about a breakthrough. Something about needing to explore a memory.
Damien was waiting in the living room.
"You're late."
"Traffic."
"You're lying."
"I'm not."
"Where were you?"
She set down her bag.
"I was at therapy."
"For four hours?"
"It was a long session."
"With who?"
She looked at him.
"With my therapist."
---
"What's his name?"
"Marcus."
"Marcus?"
"Dr. Marcus Webb."
Damien's jaw tightened.
"You've never mentioned him before."
"I'm mentioning him now."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I didn't think it mattered."
"His name is Marcus."
"So?"
"My name is Damien."
"I know."
"The last man named Marcus who came into our lives tried to destroy us."
"Marcus Webb is not that Marcus."
"How do you know?"
"Because I trust him."
---
The words hung in the air.
Damien stared at her.
"You trust him?"
"I trust him to help me."
"Do you trust him alone with you?"
"Damien—"
"Do you trust him alone with you?"
She stood.
Walked to him.
Stood in front of him.
"I trust him to do his job. Nothing more."
"You've been coming home late."
"I've been working late."
"You've been distant."
"I've been tired."
"You've been lying."
---
She stepped back.
"I haven't been lying."
"You haven't been telling the truth."
The argument lasted an hour.
Then two.
Then three.
Lena cried in the nursery. The nanny tried to soothe her. Christabel and Damien stood in the living room, yelling at each other like strangers.
"You're being paranoid," Christabel said.
"You're being naive."
"I'm being honest."
"You're being secretive."
"I'm being private."
"Oooh wow we keeping secret that sounds great. Good work by the way let me do same then i guess
He walked to the window.
Stared out at the city.
"I don't want to lose you."
"You're not going to lose me."
"I feel like I'm losing you."
"You're not."
"Then prove it."
"How?"
He turned to face her.
"Stop seeing him."
---
She stared at him.
"What?"
"Stop seeing Marcus. Find someone else. A woman. Someone I don't have to worry about."
"You're being unreasonable."
"I'm being honest, with how i feel. Am 2 seconds away from cutting him into a million pieces the next time i see him"
"You're being controlling."
"I'm being protective cause you important to me and you are my world ok"
She walked to the door.
Picked up her bag.
"I'm going to bed."
"Christabel."
"I'm tired. I'm going to bed."
She walked to the bedroom.
Closed the door.
Damien stood in the living room.
Alone.
---
The next morning, she called Marcus.
"I need to cancel today's session."
"Is everything okay?"
"My husband is jealous."
"Of me?"
"Of the time I spend with you."
Marcus was quiet for a moment.
"That's not uncommon. When one partner starts therapy, the other can feel threatened."
"He's not threatened. He's controlling."
"Has he always been controlling?"
She was quiet.
"Yes."
---
That night, she didn't come home.
She stayed at a hotel.
Not to punish Damien. To think.
To breathe.
To remember who she was.
Damien called her phone.
She didn't answer.
He called again.
She didn't answer.
He called a third time.
"Christabel."
"Damien."
"Where are you?"
"I need space."
"Come home."
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't know who I am when I'm there."