Chapter Eight

Adrian’s POV

I got to the church earlier than expected, not because I cared about the session, but because I wanted control over it.

And last night, I almost thought it was her I saw in my bedroom.

But it was mum. Standing there in the doorway half opened. Dressed in favourite pajamas. Nothing close to what I have imagined earlier.

I don't know what mere thinking about her was doing to me.

Mum said she had heard voices coming from my room and came to check up on me.

Even though I knew that concerned look on her face had shifted.

Walking inside, the compound was quiet in that unnatural way that always made my skin itch. Everything about this place felt too clean, too calm, like nothing bad had ever happened within those walls. It was a lie, of course. Places like this only looked peaceful on the surface. Beneath it, people hid more than they admitted.

I stepped into the counseling room without knocking, my gaze sweeping across the space with mild interest. It was exactly what I expected—simple wooden chairs, a small table placed neatly at the center, and a cross hanging on the wall like a constant reminder of judgment. Even the air felt controlled, like it was meant to keep people in line.

I took a seat, leaning back slightly, stretching my legs out in front of me as if I owned the place. My fingers tapped idly against the armrest while I waited, my thoughts drifting back to yesterday whether I liked it or not.

Her face.

The way she looked at me, the way she tried to fight it and the moment she didn’t.

A slow smirk crept onto my lips before I could stop it.

That moment had been real. No matter how much she tried to deny it, I knew what I saw. I had seen enough people to recognize hesitation when it came from confusion, and when it came from desire.

Hers had been both.

The sound of the door opening pulled me out of my thoughts.

I didn’t turn immediately. I let her walk in first, let her feell my presence before I acknowledged hers. It was deliberate. Everything about this needed to be.

When I finally looked at her, my gaze moved slowly, taking in every detail.

She looked the same as yesterday—covered, composed, controlled. But something was different. It was subtle, something most people wouldn’t notice, but I did.

There was tension in the way she held herself. A slight stiffness in her shoulders. Her fingers were gripping the book in her hand just a little too tightly.

Good.

“You’re late,” she said, her voice calm but carrying that quiet firmness she liked to use.

I tilted my head slightly, studying her. “Am I, or were you just waiting for me?”

Her expression didn’t change, but I saw the small flicker in her eyes.

“I asked you to be here by twelve,” she replied, walking past me and placing the book on the table before taking her seat. She had texted or maybe called mum, last night. And mum had reported when she came to my room.

I shrugged casually. “I showed up. That should count for something.”

She ignored that, settling into her chair as if she hadn’t just walked into the same room with someone who had nearly made her lose control the day before.

“Sit properly,” she said without looking at me.

A quiet chuckle escaped me. “I am sitting properly.”

This time, she looked up. “Adrian.”

The way she said my name made something shift in my chest.

No title. No distance. Just Adrian.

I leaned forward slightly, resting my elbows on my knees as I held her gaze. “Say it again.”

A brief pause passed between us before she frowned slightly. “We are here for a session. Let’s focus.”

“You’re nervous,” I said simply.

“I am not.”

“You are,” I repeated, watching her closely.

She didn’t respond to that. Instead, she opened her book, her movements controlled, like she was forcing herself to stay grounded.

“Why were you sent here?” she asked, her tone returning to something more professional.

I leaned back again, letting out a soft breath. “You tell me.”

Her pen paused for a second before continuing. “You know why.”

I smiled faintly. “Because I’m a problem?”

“No,” she said calmly. “Because you need guidance.”

That made me laugh, low and unamused. “From you?”

She met my gaze again, and this time there was a spark of irritation beneath her calm expression.

“Do you think this is a joke?” she asked.

I studied her for a moment before answering. “No. I think you are.”

Silence filled the room, thick and sharp.

Her fingers tightened around the pen, but she didn’t snap back the way I expected. Instead, she took a slow breath, steadying herself.

“I’m here to help you,” she said, her voice softer now, but not weak.

That caught my attention more than anything else she had said.

“Help me how?” I asked, watching her carefully.

She hesitated, just for a second. “By guiding you back to the right path.”

I leaned forward again, closing the distance between us just enough to make her aware of it. “And what if I don’t want that path?”

Her breath caught slightly. It was quick, almost invisible, but I saw it.

“Everyone can change,” she replied.

“Even you?” I asked quietly.

That was when she froze.

Just for a moment.

But it was enough.

A slow smile formed on my lips as I leaned back again. “Careful. You’re starting to sound unsure, Elara.”

“I’m not,” she said "and Sister Elara please" added, though her voice wasn’t as steady anymore.

I let my gaze linger on her a little longer before speaking again. “Do you always follow the rules?”

“Yes.” she replied too quick.

“Always?” I pressed.

Her eyes flickered, and that was all I needed.

I leaned forward slightly, lowering my voice just enough to make the moment feel more personal. “Even yesterday?”

Her breath hitched again, more noticeable this time.

“That will not happen again,” she said firmly, maybe finally.

I tilted my head, studying her. “Did it feel wrong?”

She didn’t answer.

Her lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

I stood up slowly.

She reacted immediately, her body tensing as she looked up at me. “Sit down.”

I didn’t.

Instead, I took a step closer, then another, stopping just in front of her.

Close enough to see the way her chest rose with each breath. Close enough to feel the shift in the air between us.

“ Mr Adrian…” she said, my name softer this time, almost like a warning.

“Say it,” I murmured.

Her eyes locked with mine, filled with something she couldn’t hide anymore.

“Say you didn’t feel anything.”

“I—” she started, but stopped again.

And just like that, I knew.

A quiet satisfaction settled in my chest.

She stood up quickly, creating distance between us. “This session is over.”

I let out a small laugh, stepping back this time, not because I had to, but because I wanted to.

“For now,” I said.

I grabbed my jacket, slipping it on slowly while keeping my eyes on her. She was still trying to steady her breathing, still trying to rebuild whatever control she thought she had.

“You’re running again,” I added.

“I am not.”

“You are,” I said simply.

I moved toward the door, then paused, glancing back at her one last time.

“Same time tomorrow?”

There was a short pause before she answered. “Yes.”

A faint smile touched my lips.

“Good.”

I opened the door, then stopped briefly.

“You’re not as strong as you think,” I said quietly before walking out.

This time, I didn’t look back.

Because I didn’t need to.

I already knew something. She was breaking.

As I walked out of the room, I nearly bumped into a guy. Probably a Christian brother.

I frown slightly though he apologized before I could react.

I stepped out fully from the church. Now entering into my car, finally driving out of the park.

The counseling felt too short that I wished she would schedule our meeting twice a day or even more.

Our first counseling meeting felt like a brief introduction. More like an interview.

And merely thinking about tomorrow felt like a child how couldn't wait to try on a new birthday dress.

What is this feeling?. And where it's coming from is something am yet to know.