CHAPTER NINETY THREE – COMPLETELY BROKEN

Two weeks after the funeral, Scarlett sat slumped in the plush armchair opposite Dr. Thompson. The therapist, a kind-faced woman with weary eyes, asked another question about her coping mechanisms. Scarlett stared at a pattern on the rug, her voice flat. "I sleep. I eat. I go to work." Dr. Thompson made a note in her file. "And how do you feel about those activities?" "Neutral," Scarlett replied, her voice barely a whisper. The therapist leaned forward, a concerned frown creasing her brow. "Scarlett, it's normal to grieve. You lost someone you loved very much." The word "loved" seemed to crack something within Scarlett. A tremor ran through her body, and she finally lifted her gaze to meet the doctor's eyes. They were filled with a gentle empathy that ignited a raw, burning rage within Scarlett. "Loved?" she choked out, the single word laced with a bitterness that made Dr. Thompson flinch. "Loved doesn't even begin to describe it. He was my partner, my confidante, the only li