What Happens At The End Of Self Therapy?

I was holding my wife as we slept when her phone suddenly gave a special alert tone. “Rachel, my whole body hurts. Please help me…” The message was from Daniel. He sounded entitled, and he even attached a photo of his abs. My wife pushed me away at once. “Wait for me. I will head over right away.” I could not hold back my anger. “Where are you going? It’s the middle of the night, and you are going to see him? He’s your brother-in-law. Can’t you keep a bit of distance? “Your sister has been dead for half a year. Do you have to take care of him like this forever?” Rachel suddenly raised her hand and slapped me. “Sam, he has post-traumatic stress disorder. You already know that. I am his psychologist, so what is wrong with helping him? Why are your thoughts so filthy? “Forget it. I can’t talk sense into someone like you. Stay home and reflect on yourself.” After saying that, she did not look at me again. We had been married for five years. Every time we argued, she would walk away and give me the cold shoulder. She knew how much I loved her, so she hurt me without restraint. She was certain that I would ultimately give in and try to make peace. However, this time, I did not try to salvage the situation anymore. My heart was dead. I did not want her anymore.

The doctor told me I had 72 hours left, unless I got access to the newest experimental treatment. However, there was only one slot available, and my husband Bowen Liddell gave it to my sister Yvonne Lawson instead. "Her kidney failure is more critical," he said. I nodded and swallowed the white pills that would only speed up my death. In the time I had left, I got a lot done. The lawyer's hand trembled as he passed me the documents. "Are you sure you want to transfer the two billion dollars in shares?" I replied, "Yes. Give them to Yvonne." My daughter, Candice Liddell, was giggling in Yvonne's arms. "Mommy Yvonne bought me a new dress!" I said, "It looks beautiful. Make sure you always listen to Mommy Yvonne, okay?" The art gallery I built from the ground up now had Yvonne's name on the sign. "You're too kind, Kathy," she said, crying. I told her, "You'll run it even better than I ever did." I even signed all my parents' trust fund away. That was when Bowen finally gave me his first genuine smile in years. "Kathleen, you've changed. You're not so aggressive anymore... You're beautiful like this." Indeed. This dying version of me finally became the 'perfect Kathleen Sullivan' in their eyes—obedient, generous, and no longer argumentative. The 72-hour countdown had already begun, and I couldn't help but wonder what they would remember when my heart stopped for good. The good wife who 'finally learned to let go', or the woman who completed her revenge by dying?

"Wait… sir, I can't…" While I was performing physical therapy on a patient, the vest I was wearing accidentally tore. In front of the patient's guardian, it exposed my sweat-dampened body. The man's gaze settled on the soft curves that had sprung free, his eyes dark and unreadable. When he pressed me against the mirror and made me watch my own reflection—my body left in disarray under his relentless attention—I knew then that everything was about to spiral into an uncontrollable abyss.

The novel consists of several mini-stories about therapy sessions at a therapy clinic named "Soulmate", but the letters "m-a-t-e" were broken in a storm. Each mini-story is narrated by both the psychologists and the patients, describe the patients' worldview, why they do what seems "mentally ill" to us. We often say that the patients' head is abnormal, that their way of thinking is so weird. But is there any possibility that it's because they received different (whether right or wrong) information, so they react differently? Is that just because we "normal people" haven't got enough understanding about this world? Throughout the story, we could see that therapy sessions are a two-way arrow. While the experts are affecting the patient, the patient is also influencing them,“When you look deeply into the darkness, the deep darkness is also looking into you". The story does not make any conclusion about who is right or which world is real, maybe all of them are real, maybe they are all virtual, or maybe, it all doesn't matter. Isn't the world where we live? Wherever you live, that's your world.

On the last day before my study-abroad application closed, I was about to give up my full scholarship offer. Then, out of nowhere, I got a call from my future self. "Don't give it up. Click confirm enrollment. Right now." "Harley locked in his own graduate placement three months ago. The only reason he wants you to stay is that Katy needs you to finish her senior thesis for her, and he needs your money every month to live on. "Two weeks after you turn down that offer, the two of them go public with their relationship. "That so-called best friend of yours, Katy? She already betrayed you. She's been sleeping with him." I froze, my finger hovering over the mouse. The voice kept going, speaking faster and faster. "Listen carefully. Once you confirm the offer, take the twenty thousand dollars left in your account and put every cent into the Eklund Growth Fund. It goes public next March. It'll grow eightfold within the year. "Once you're abroad, apply to your advisor's AI lab before your first semester ends. That project gets acquired by Coogle two years from now, and as a core team member, you'll get a share of the payout. "Twenty-two-year-old me, I'm begging you. Stop wasting yourself on people who don't deserve it." The voice cut off. I took a deep breath and moved the cursor to "Confirm Enrollment." The instant I clicked, my mind was made up. I wasn't going to bury my own future for anyone who wasn't worth it.

On the day Clara forced me to sign the divorce papers, I got bound to a self-sabotaging system. The system commanded me to slap her hard and tell her to get lost. I trembled in fear because Clara was a ruthless person. If I dared to stop her from getting back together with the love of her life, she would utterly destroy me. But the system threatened me: "If you don't self-sabotage, you will die soon." Left with no choice, I slapped her. As soon as I hit her, I ran out of the house, terrified. The system then told me to smash a police car on the side of the road. I suspected the system wanted me dead. However, after I smashed the police car's side view mirror, I realized that the system was trying to sabotage someone else's life instead.