Chapter 5 Nicole

I walked into the dining room, the silence thick enough to cut with a knife. Nicholas sat there, a picture of normalcy as he scrolled through his phone, a half-eaten croissant abandoned on his plate.

The memory of last night flooded my mind, the image of him going from woman to woman, still clear in my mind. But this morning, a strange sense of calm had settled over me.

His gaze shifted from his phone, giving me his full attention. "You had a great time last night," Nicholas remarked, his voice laced with sarcasm and veiled accusation.

I met his gaze, "Yes, I can say the same for you," I replied, my voice devoid of its usual deference. "I hope the after-party was good too." The words hung in the air.

"Don't start this morning," he muttered, taking a large gulp of coffee, the clink of the cup against the saucer a jarring sound in the tense silence.

"Don't start what, Nicholas?" I challenged, my voice calm but firm. "Should I talk about the way you were practically glued to every woman in the hall last night?"

He dropped his phone down on the table, a flash of amusement erupting in his eyes. "Those women are business owners, Nicole," he snapped. "They are potential investors."

I think he finds my jealousy amusing. Was I jealous? I don't think so. "I'll keep that in mind," I said coolly, pushing my chair forward and reaching for the croissant.

As I dug into my food, his voice cut through the air. "What are your plans for today?" He asked with something I would have called concern if I didn't know him well.

The question almost made me laugh. Did he truly believe we could return to normalcy after the events of last night? Part of me yearned to rip into him, to tear his carefully constructed facade to shreds. I contemplated ignoring him altogether, but the stretched silence bothers me and a part of me decided to play along, for now.

"I have an appointment today," I replied, my tone deliberately flat, omitting the details of my appointment. I don't have plans to tell me about my plans to get help from a therapist.

"With whom?" he inquired, a flicker of suspicion crossing his features.

A slow smile spread across my face, now was the time to give him a taste of his own medicine. "Dearest husband," I drawled, savoring the way his face contorted in annoyance, "I don't think that's any of your business."

The victory I felt after seeing the look on his face was satisfying. The feeling might be short-lived, but strangely, it was satisfying.

"You have never seized to amaze me" he retorted, matching my energy.

"Benefits of learning from the best" I pointed at him, so he could know he was the one I was referring to. "Enjoy your breakfast, Nicholas," I said, pushing back my chair. "I have a very important appointment to keep." With that, I rose and walked out of the dining room, leaving him speechless behind.

Everything I did felt deliberate as I prepared for the day. The purple pants and the lilac blouse, the bright outfit is a shade of the blossoming hope in me. This therapy appointment, a step towards healing and self-discovery, was just the beginning of better days for me.

I put on my chosen outfit with the knowledge that the road ahead wouldn't be easy, but I was finally ready to walk it, alone if need be, and emerge stronger on the other side.

My reflection stared back, the dark circles beneath my eyes were covered with makeup, a perfect shield I'd been using to cover up. But today, I chose to apply a little of it. Both physically and mentally, I was fully prepared to start afresh.

Sliding behind the wheel of my car, the familiar route to an unknown destination unfolded before me. Today is my first day with my therapist, a woman I didn't know yet, to whom I will entrust the most fragile parts of myself.

I reached for the radio, a desperate attempt to fill the silence with a comforting melody. But the universe seemed to have a different plan. The first song, about undying love, grated on my already raw emotions. A quick click on the radio landed on another love song, then another.

"What's with the love songs?" With a sigh, I surrendered. The music, though not what I craved, filled the void with a melancholic beauty. The lyrics, dripping with promises of forever and unwavering devotion, struck a deep chord.

"I really want to relate to this song," I whispered to myself, the words a confession, a yearning that had been buried deep for far too long. It was a painful truth, a reminder of the feelings I'd craved from Nicholas, but I don't think that will ever happen.

But despite the whirlwind of emotions, and the new realization of being loved. I focused on my appointment. This therapy session wasn't just about fixing my marriage, it was about rediscovering myself, the woman beneath the layers of hurt and disappointment. Maybe, unlocking my happiness is the beginning of the true love I craved.

With a newfound determination, I focused on the road ahead. The therapist's office was a step towards healing, a chance to learn to love and cherish myself, the strongest foundation for any love story waiting to be written. I pulled into the familiar parking lot of the therapist's office. This wasn't the big hospital I imagined, it was small like a converted house with a calming aura. Taking a deep breath, I smoothed out my lilac blouse and stepped inside.

The receptionist, a woman with a warm smile, greeted me. "Hi there, you must be Nicole. Dr. Vic is expecting you." She directed me down a hallway adorned with a calming picture frame about the importance of mental health and healthy living.

"Dr. Vic," the sign on the door read. I hesitated for a beat, pushing aside the doubts, I knocked once and pushed the door open. A man, probably in his early thirties with kind eyes framed with well-trimmed eyebrows looked up from behind a desk filled with files. He offered a warm, welcoming smile.

Confusion washed over me as I saw the man. Was I in the wrong office? My therapist, the person I was entrusting with my deepest vulnerabilities, was supposed to be a woman, I thought. But here, in the office, there was a clear indication otherwise. "Is Vic not the short form of Victoria? I pondered.

"You must be Nicole. I'm Dr. Vic." He said, his deep voice calling me out of my confused state.

Surprise momentarily stunned me. "I... I thought my therapist was a woman........ Vic as in Victoria" I stammered. I don't want to sound stereotypical because of his name. Was this some kind of mistake?

Dr. Vic's smile remained gentle. "That must have been a misunderstanding, I'm Vic as in Victor" he said calmly. "Please, have a seat. We can discuss your concerns, and if you're uncomfortable, we can certainly find another therapist who might be a better fit."

"No, there's no need for that. I'm fine with you." I told him without thinking too much.

But a male therapist? It wasn't what I'd envisioned, but Dr. Vic's warm demeanor was disarming. Maybe, gender wouldn't matter. The important thing was finding someone who could truly listen, someone who could guide me through the emotional maze I'd gotten myself lost in.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped further into the office and settled into the chair across from Dr. Vic. "This might be unconventional," I said, my voice barely a whisper, "but maybe Dr Vic is exactly what I need."