Page 92 of Falling Off Script

She takes off her glasses.

No. No no no.

“Emily,” she says gently. “That’s my son.”

Silence.

Like the world hiccupped.

I blink once.

“Yourson? You are Adrian’s mother?”

She nods, face surprisingly calm for a woman who just found out her son had a starring role in my unsanctioned audio porn.

“Adrian Zayne is his brand name. But yes.”

“And you’ve been giving me... advice. On how to navigate my feelings. About your son.” I whispered again. “This is unethical. This is Greek tragedy unethical. We’re two monologues away from a Euripides reboot.”

I drop my face into my hands. “You’re supposed to disclose these things.”

“I didn’t realize it was Andrew. Until people started tagging him on these leaked audios.”

“Oh my God. So what do we do now?”

She shrugs, as zen as her bonsai tree. “I can step down after this session if you want to. But you still need someone neutral to talk to.”

“You’re not neutral! You made him.”

She smiles. “Not alone.”

I squint at her. “Well, you and his father created a man who can gaslight the entire internet.”

She doesn’t flinch. “You also said he made you feel seen.”

I groan. “I say a lot of things. Some of them are jokes. Some are just... despair in a cute outfit.”

Her brows rise. “And which one is this?”

“This?” I give her a dry look. “The latter, obviously.”

I shift on the couch, suddenly too aware of how long I’d been talking. “But seriously,” I add, voice lighter than I felt, “was there a moment—just a flicker—when you thought, ‘Wow, my son really broke this girl’s brain. Go me!’?”

Lisa doesn’t laugh. “No. But I did think, ‘She’s brave.’”

That does makemelaugh. A soft, incredulous sound. “I’m not brave,” I say. “I’m horny and poorly supervised.”

Lisa smiles at that, but doesn't interrupt. She always gives space when I start spiraling into honesty.

“You’re also honest,” she says eventually. “Even when it hurts.”

I exhale. “Yeah, well. It hurts a lot.” I press a finger to my temple. “I always thought if I kept things clever and curated, I’d stay safe. But I wasn’t safe. I was just... branding my loneliness.”

A pause. A longer one.

“And now?” she asks gently.

“Now I can’t unknow what I want.” The words come out quieter than I expected. And a little shakier.

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