Page 35 of Hunter

“I can’t do this,” I whisper, turning away.

“Sophia—”

“No!” I snap, spinning back to face him. “You don’t get to make this about you. You don’t get to turn my pain into your excuse.”

He takes a step back, his hands clenched at his sides. For the first time, he’s silent.

I shake my head, my voice trembling. “You can’t fix me, Maxim. And you don’t get to try.”

Without waiting for his response, I walk away, my chest heaving, my tears finally spilling over. I don’t know where I’m going, but I need to be anywhere but here.

Opening the doors, I step outside, heading toward the benches overlooking the ocean I noticed earlier. The salty breeze stings my face, cool and unforgiving, as if it knows the storm inside me. I sink onto the bench, clutching my arms around myself, trying to quiet my racing thoughts.

The rhythmic crash of waves should calm me, but it doesn’t.

The vibration in my pocket jolts me, and I pull out my phone. The screen lights up with Bobby’s name, and I answer quickly. I’ve been waiting for his call for days.

“Hi, Bobby. Thanks for calling me back,” I say, my fingers picking at the hem of my dress.

“Of course. Tell me about the patient you’re referring to,” he says, his tone light and professional.

I pause, swallowing the lump in my throat. “It’s me. I’m the patient.”

The line goes silent for a few heartbeats.

“Are you finally ready to talk about your dad?” His voice softens, shifting to the gentle tone he uses with patients.

The mention of my dad sends a sharp pang through my chest, but I push it down quickly. Not now. I can’t add that weight on top of everything else. “No…it’s not about him,” I say quietly, my voice breaking. “It’s worse, Bobby. I didn’t know who else to call.”

He doesn’t hesitate. “You know I’m here for you, always.” There’s a brief rustle of papers on his end before he speaks again. “I’m free right now if you are.”

I glance around. The beach is empty except for a man walking his dog in the distance. Do it now, Sophia, while you still have the courage. If you don’t, you’ll just talk yourself out of it.

Taking a shaky breath, I begin.

I tell Bobby everything. Not about Maxim or the Mafia—that’s a secret I can’t afford to share—but about the kidnapping, what they did to me, how helpless I felt, and how every day since feels like I’m clawing my way out of quicksand. The words tumble out in choked fragments. Every pause is punctuated by the sound of my own sniffles, and I hate how raw and exposed I feel.

It takes longer than I expected to get it all out. By the end, my chest aches, as if I’ve been holding my breath this whole time. I’ve been sitting here for nearly an hour, my tears soaking into the ocean breeze. A strange weight lifts from my shoulders, though the memories still cling like shadows.

Not even Maxim knows the full extent of what happened.

Bobby’s voice is softer now, more deliberate. “Sophia…as your friend, I’m so sorry you went through this. But as a doctor, I have to tell you—you need therapy. Real therapy. Twice a week to start. We need to process what happened and work through these triggers together.”

I nod, even though he can’t see me. I knew this was coming. Healing won’t be instant, and unloading this onto him won’t magically erase the trauma.

“I’ll have my secretary call you tomorrow to schedule something,” he continues. “You’ve taken the first step, Sophia. Admitting you need help is the hardest part. Do you have a support system? Someone you trust when it gets overwhelming?”

My mind flashes to Maxim.

Maxim, who never leaves, even when I push him away. Maxim, who shoulders his own demons but still tries to carrymine. I nod again, the thought giving me a strange comfort. “Yes. I do.”

“Good. A support system is crucial right now,” Bobby says firmly.

I wish I could say the same about my mom, but the idea of calling her fills me with dread. She’d hover, smothering me with questions, reminders, and pity until I couldn’t breathe. Her intentions would come from a good place, but they’d crush me all the same. She wouldn’t understand that some wounds need space to heal.

Bobby exhales deeply on the other end. “I’ll let you go for now, but expect a call from my office tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Bobby.”

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