Clara sat down slowly on the soft couch, fingers twisting anxiously in her lap.
Across from her, Dr. Lilian Moore waited patiently, notebook on her knees, her eyes kind as always.
"So," Lilian began softly, "how have you been since our last session, two or three days ago?"
Clara gave a dry, humorless laugh. "Just two days. .Good. Good, actually."
She paused. "Or, let's say I was, until yesterday happened."
Lilian tilted her head. "Tell me more."
Clara took a long breath, her voice trembling.
"I found my son, Lilian."
Lilian didn't speak, she just let Clara fill the silence at her own pace.
"You know, I always imagined, and even fantasised about that perfect moment," Clara whispered. "I pictured a hundred different ways I'd celebrate finding him. I thought I'd cry, laugh, scream, and everything."
Her chest tightened. "And yesterday I did all those things, not just because I was happy, which I am. But also because I'm devastated."
