CHAPTER TWO :The First Real Session
Matteo had learned one truth in his line of work:
A woman’s silence is never empty.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOMwIXfpOKo
It holds back storms.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡE9dlLcKcOP
It hides screams.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTsUaH13xyx
It begs not to be read—yet secretly hopes to be understood.
And Ms. De Luna was quiet.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdFtWDsuT5b
Too quiet.
Her shoulders were tense, knuckles pale around the cushion she hugged to her chest as if it were armor. Her eyes followed Matteo, but not with lust—with hesitation. With hope she didn’t trust.
That kind of silence?18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0sCDD0D2V3
Matteo never rushed it.
He dimmed the lights—just enough to let shadows soften the edges of the room.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlE32va0Dxb
Then moved to the cabinet beside the chaise and pulled out a soft, gray throw blanket.
He walked over, bent down to her level, and held it out.
"Here," he said, not touching her. “Just something to hold onto if the world feels too loud.”
She blinked, startled.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIuYZa9BGOT
Then took it—slowly, wordlessly—letting it rest across her lap.
“You’re not here to perform,” Matteo said.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJlfodAabwy
“You’re not here to please me.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡr6ZSuPDmdu
You’re here to remember that your body still belongs to you.”
The silence thickened.
Then she asked—barely a whisper, but sharp:
“Do they all say that to you? The other women?”
Matteo tilted his head. “Some don’t say anything at all. They cry. They scream. They shiver. They laugh.”
He paused.
“And some just sit there, like you, wondering if I’ll take something from them… or give something back.”
She looked away.
“Which one am I?” she asked.
Matteo didn’t answer immediately. He never did.
Instead, he knelt beside her—not to kneel, but to align. He stayed lower than her, gaze level with her guarded face.
“You’re the kind that makes me forget this is a routine,” he said softly.
He reached for the scented oil—lavender and warm vanilla—and poured just a drop into his hands. He rubbed them together, warming them, letting the room fill with that calming smell.
Then he whispered, “I’ll start with your hands, if that’s okay.”
She nodded once.
And Matteo took her right hand—gently, deliberately—as if holding a secret.
He started at her wrist, thumb pressing softly into the space just below her palm. He worked slowly, tracing forgotten veins, unloved tension.
No words.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqWaNM3Q4QE
Just breath.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1KyAijdBCt
Just the faint sound of skin against skin.
And her walls—quietly, invisibly—started to fall.
“I used to love this,” she murmured suddenly. “Touch. Skin. I wasn’t always so…”18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7Rp146k4SU
She trailed off.
Matteo looked up. “So what?”
She exhaled a shaky laugh. “Numb.”
His hands stilled. Then he let go, only to take her other hand.
“I don’t think you’re numb,” he said. “I think you’re surviving.”
Ten minutes. That’s all he gave.
Just enough to stir what had gone still.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡedUPL60m8O
Not enough to burn.
When the session ended, she looked different—barely.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7no5J5tOm5
But he noticed.
There was color in her cheeks.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNElKOfZD5w
A little less steel in her spine.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqo0sIrLrDl
A little more ache in her gaze.
She stood, clutching the throw blanket like armor.
“I’ll book another appointment,” she said, voice steadier now. “If that’s okay.”
Matteo smiled, eyes unreadable.
“Ms. De Luna… you don’t need to ask permission to come back.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsASqMh1XZ2
Not here.”
But as the door closed behind her, Matteo turned to the file she left behind.
His hand hovered over it. Then he opened it again.
In her original intake form, at the very bottom, she had written:
“I don’t want sex. I just want to be seen.”
And for the first time in a long time, Matteo leaned back in his chair…
And let himself feel something, too.
ns216.73.216.239da2
