“Quiet Strength” 

Eloise POV

The waiting room smelled faintly of lavender, a sterile, careful kind of comfort. A diffuser puffed slow clouds of scented mist into the air beside a tray of glossy magazines I didn’t bother to glance at. I was too busy tracing the edge of my thumbnail with the pad of my finger, over and over, until I realized I was doing it and forced myself to stop. Mike had suggested I go for therapy and honestly I needed it.

“Eloise?”

The therapist stood at the doorway, her voice calm and warm like chamomile tea. Her hair was curly, brown, and framed her face with a softness...