The knock echoed too sharply in the quiet of the office. Astra froze mid-sentence, her lips parting but no sound coming out. Gael's gaze slid toward the door, calm, his expression unreadable as ever. Before she could move, the handle turned "Hey, love," a voice said, easy and warm. Astra's husband stepped inside, carrying the faint scent of coffee and city air. He looked relaxed, one hand stuffed in the pocket of his blazer, the other holding a small paper bag. "Thought I'd surprise you with lunch. You've been working too hard." Her heart plummeted, panic tightening her chest. Oh God. She forced a smile, though her throat felt dry. "Daniel… I—I wasn't expecting you." Daniel's eyes swept the room casually, landing briefly on Gael. He smiled politely. "And this must be one of your clients?"
Gael inclined his head slightly, measured, his posture perfect as always. He didn't blink, didn't shift. He simply existed with a quiet intensity that made the air feel heavier. "Yes," Astra said quickly, too quickly. "Gael. We were just… finishing up." Daniel stepped closer, setting the bag down on the desk. "Nice to meet you, Gael. My wife doesn't stop talking about how dedicated her work is. I can see she keeps busy." Astra's palms pressed into her thighs under the desk, nails biting into the fabric of her skirt. Her mind raced with excuses, with the desperate need to keep her voice steady. Gael, meanwhile, sat silent, still — watching, absorbing, unreadable. Daniel leaned down and kissed Astra's cheek lightly. To him, it was a normal gesture. To her, it felt like a spotlight had been thrown across every secret she'd been burying. Her pulse thundered in her ears.
Daniel pulled up a chair without asking, settling himself beside Astra's desk as if he belonged there — because he did. He loosened his tie, his smile easy. "I figured you'd skip lunch again," he said, nudging the paper bag toward her. "So I brought your favorite. Don't worry, I told my team I'd be back in an hour. They can survive without me." Astra's throat tightened. She opened the bag with mechanical hands, the familiar smell of roasted chicken and herbs wafting up. Her favorite. He remembered. Her stomach churned. "Thank you," she said softly, forcing her lips into something resembling a smile. Her fingers trembled faintly around the packaging, and she tucked them under the desk before he could notice. Daniel's gaze slid to Gael again. His expression was friendly, his tone unguarded. "So, Gael, how long have you been seeing Astra for sessions?" Gael looked at him directly, his voice low, even. "Long enough."
Something about the flat honesty of it made Astra's breath hitch. She shot him a look — warning, pleading — but his face gave away nothing. Daniel chuckled lightly, leaning back in his chair. "Well, I hope she's been helpful. She's good at what she does. Too good, sometimes. She even tries to psychoanalyze me when I'm just trying to relax." Astra let out a brittle laugh. "Occupational hazard." Her husband reached for her hand, squeezing it briefly before letting go. It was such a normal gesture, so marital that Astra thought her body might shatter under the weight of it. Across from them, Gael simply observed — no flicker of jealousy, no discomfort, just that unnerving calm, his ocean-blue eyes absorbing everything. The air in the room was thick, layered with secrets, but Daniel seemed untouched by it, unfolding his lunch like it was any other day.
Daniel leaned forward after a few minutes of casual talk, resting his elbows on his knees, his smile curious. "So, Gael," he began, his tone kind but edged with genuine interest, "what exactly are you seeing Astra for, if you don't mind me asking? Only if you're comfortable sharing, of course." Astra's pulse stuttered. She shifted in her seat, mouth parting to deflect, but Gael spoke before she could. "Alexithymia," Gael said plainly. His voice was calm, steady, unbothered. "I have difficulty identifying and describing emotions." The room seemed to shrink. Daniel blinked, then sat back slowly, as if processing the word. His brows rose, but there was no judgment in his gaze, only intrigue. "Huh. That's… fascinating, actually. Makes sense why Astra's involved. She's always had a soft spot for unique challenges." He grinned warmly at Gael, then at Astra, who froze in her chair. "Do you feel nothing at all?" Daniel asked, leaning in again, his tone curious, not cruel. "Like — if you win a game, or ace a test, or… I don't know, get close to someone, it doesn't register?"
Gael tilted his head, his voice flat but not cold. "I register sensations. Patterns. The body reacts. But emotions are… unclear." Daniel let out a low whistle, rubbing his chin. "So no falling in love, no heartbreak, no butterflies in your stomach, huh? That almost sounds like freedom." He chuckled lightly, shaking his head. Astra tried to steady her breathing, tried to keep her expression neutral, but her nails dug into her palm under the desk. Then Daniel leaned back with a sly grin, his eyes playful. "So what about… the other stuff? You know, the fun kind of closeness. Don't tell me you can't enjoy that." Astra's heart slammed against her ribs so violently she thought it might give her away. Gael's gaze never wavered. He answered with the same steady calm: "I can enjoy it." Daniel laughed, clapping his hands together once. "Well, that's a relief! At least you're not missing out on everything." Astra forced a laugh, her throat dry, her mind a storm. Every casual word Daniel spoke cut deeper, his obliviousness twisting the knife. Across from her, Gael was unreadable — calm, controlled, but his eyes flicked briefly to her, and that single glance nearly unraveled her.
Daniel chuckled again, clearly amused by the exchange. He tapped his wedding band lightly against the armrest of his chair, eyes glinting with curiosity. "You know, Gael," he said, grinning, "that condition of yours might actually make life a lot simpler. No jealousy, no heartbreak, no messy drama… Astra, can you imagine how peaceful that must be?" Astra forced a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Peaceful… yes. But difficult, too." Her throat felt tight, and she avoided Gael's gaze, terrified of what Daniel might see if he looked too closely at her instead. Daniel, oblivious, went on, his tone playful. "Though I gotta admit, I'd have questions if you told me you couldn't feel anything during, you know… the fun stuff. Astra would be out of a job real quick." The laugh that followed was lighthearted, teasing — a husband joking around — but Astra's stomach flipped violently. Her knuckles whitened against the arm of her chair. Gael's face remained unreadable, though his gaze lingered on Daniel just long enough to make the silence stretch. Then, calm and precise, he said: "I feel. Just differently."
Daniel leaned back, satisfied with the answer, still grinning. "Fair enough. I guess as long as you can feel that part of life, you're good. Otherwise, what's even the point, right?" Astra's heart skipped. She wanted to scream at him to stop — to leave, to never come back. But Daniel only reached out to squeeze her hand briefly, warmth and trust in his touch, before standing. "I'll let you two get back to your session. Good luck, Gael. You seem like a sharp kid." Gael inclined his head. "Thank you." When Daniel finally left the office, Astra let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Her chest felt heavy, her mind caught between panic and the faintest trace of longing for the steady figure seated across from her. Gael adjusted the strap of his bag and rose without hurry. "I should go. Classes." Astra nodded quickly, desperate to mask the storm inside her. "Right. Yes. Go on." Her voice cracked slightly, but Gael didn't react. As he turned to leave, she caught his reflection in the mirror across the room: tall, controlled, impossibly composed, yet carrying with him a tension that only she seemed to notice.
The campus buzzed as Gael slipped back into the current of students. He moved quietly, unhurried, weaving through the chatter and laughter without ever quite belonging to it. His eyes tracked patterns, familiar rhythms of movement and sound, filing them away. When he entered the classroom, the familiar circle of faces — Mara, Selene, Iris, Naomi, Calla, and Vivienne — lit up almost in unison. "Gael!" Naomi waved him over. Selene smirked. "Late again. What were you up to this time, statue boy?" Gael took his usual seat without answering, his calm presence somehow pulling all six girls into orbit around him again. Their whispers picked up immediately, buzzing with questions, teasing, and that same restless fascination that seemed to grow each time he walked into the room.