Levi's POV

The only sound that fills the small, nondescript, cream-colored office is the relentless ticking of the clock on the desk. It's so loud and grating that I'm starting to think that it was put here specifically to test patients' patience.

The room itself is sterile, designed to feel welcoming but failing miserably. Everything is white, except for the desk, chairs, and bookshelf. Technically, the bookshelf is also white, but I don’t count it - at least the books add some color.

"So you claim you don't have any feelings for her?" My therapist asks, breaking the silence.

'Why does she keep asking me that?'

She's been fixated on...