Then finally…
“I’ll help you,” Narri said. “But not for you. For her. Because if she says yes, if she gives you one more shot, you better not justshow up. You better stay and love her like your life depends on it.”
“It does,” Adair whispered. “It really fucking does.”
UNDER THE APPLE TREE
Sabine double-checked the address on her phone and frowned. This couldn’t be right. She was sitting in the parking lot of a brick office suite owning a fancy sign that readPumila Psychiatry.The building itself looked normal enough—beige with navy awnings, glass doors, a few cars scattered in the lot.
Narri had texted her this morning.
Be here. Please. 5PM. Trust me.
That was it. No context. No emojis. Just a location pin and an assumption that she’d follow instructions which she would because her bestie asked, and she delivered.
Sabine got out the car slowly, heels clicking across the pavement as she walked toward the main entrance. Twist out now pinned up in a messy bun after a long day, hoops still in, lip gloss on.
There was a placard beside the door, one of those engraved metalones. She paused when she saw the name:
Dr. Apple Pie, M.D., Ph.D.
Board-Certified Psychiatrist & Licensed Clinical Psychologist
Trauma-Informed & Family Systems Specialist
Specializing in Marriage & Relationship Therapy, PTSD, Complex Trauma, and Integrated Mental Health Care
Her chest tightened.
No way.
Sabine didn’t have time to ponder because her stomach had already started flipping. The kind of flip that told her she wasn’t just here to meet Narri. She reached for the handle slowly, the breath in her throat already caught.
The door opened with a gentle whoosh and a soft chime overhead. The inside was all warm tones and low lighting—beige couches, real plants, a tiny fountain bubbling in the center of the room.
Sitting in one of the chairs near the corner, legs crossed, phone in hand?—
Adair.
He looked up at the sound of the door, and for a second, his eyes flickered with something unreadable. Not shock. Not guilt. Just…readiness. Readiness?
Sabine stopped in her tracks.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered under her breath.
The receptionist—young, with neat braids and a gentle smile—greeted her before she could turn around.
“Hi, Ms. Knight, you’re right on time. Dr. Pie said to let you both know she’ll be ready in just a few minutes. You’re welcome to take a seat.”
Sabine’s heart sank.
Adair stood up slowly, sliding his phone into his pocket. “I asked Narri to do this,” he said, as if reading her mind. “I…weneed this.”
Sabine stared at him. At the room. At the logo on the wall behind the receptionist desk—a tree with roots tangled around a heart shaped apple. She closed her eyes for one breath, then another.
For years, she’d asked him to do this.
To sit down. To talk. To meet her somewhere—anywhere. He always had excuses. Work. Timing. The baby. His ego.