Love On A Leash: A Guide To Pet Therapy

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.

After getting back together with Peter Palmer, I stopped caring about where he went or what he did. He spent all our savings on Julia Sharp, and I didn’t even bother asking why. Maybe he realized something, because before leaving me once again to be with her, he said, “Julia’s leaving to live abroad tomorrow. She won’t be coming back. Once she’s gone, we’ll get married.” I gave a casual reply. After all, I was leaving too.

“Heidi, call me a monster. Call me a beast. Fuck, call me the Devil. It does not change the way I feel about you.” “How about the way ‘I’ feel about you?” I whisper. “This hatred—built from love, passion… trust.” Hunter gently takes my hand and interlocks it with his before placing both on his chest. He then leans down to bump his forehead on mine, making me close my eyes and sigh as it drives in me sensations that cause me to crumble. “I love you, Heidi…” he whispers—doesn’t do good for my eyes bleeding more tears. “…and I will let the world burn for you.” ~ H E I D I I’ve lived twenty-two years but never seen a man like Hunter. He has killed everyone I know and is bound to do more, which is why I’m determined to stop him, if only I wouldn’t have to deal with these emotions—old feelings clashing with new ones; love and hate—that make me want to squash his heart one moment, then piece it up the next. But I know I can’t hang between these feelings forever. I have to choose, and quickly. H U N T E R I am told she is dangerous, a being forbidden from existence. Yet, I find myself protecting her. I shouldn’t, but I do. Then I realize she isn’t the threat. Where danger lies is with my feelings—ones that I must not have, that will be my downfall. To be that creature feared by all, I need to be the man with nothing to lose. But now I have so much to lose. Even nature has fated our Love to be doomed and will see to its vow that one of us is destroyed.

Alejandro, the son of the Mexican biggest gangster hid in Istanbul from his rivals where he met Ceyda, a teenage Turkish girl who was his tour guide. They fell in love with each other but his father threatened Ceyda and ordered her to disappear from Alejandro's life because he wanted Alejandro to marry the daughter of his business partner. His father created scenarios that made Alejandro violent and after his father's death, Alejandro took over his father's position and found out Ceyda eventually and started torturing her for his revenge until the truth was revealed.

Elena had once believed that silence could mean safety. That a gentle hand and a warm cup of tea placed quietly on her desk every morning could be a form of love. Lucien was never cruel—not in the obvious ways. He remembered how she liked her eggs, noticed when she swapped her perfume, and sent flowers on days he knew she wouldn’t expect them. He raised her like one would raise a pet—softly, without question. And Elena, foolish in the way only the very lonely can be, mistook his quiet affection for devotion. She told herself he was reserved. Mysterious. That love didn’t always wear its heart on its sleeve. But when the old flame returned—the one who spoke his language without needing to try—Elena saw it. The difference. He looked at her like a man who had found his lost religion. And Elena? She had simply been convenient. No tears, no scene. Just papers on the breakfast table, beside the eggs he cooked perfectly. She didn’t accuse or beg. She only asked for freedom. He didn’t sign. He chuckled. A soft, dismissive sound. “A cat raised indoors doesn’t know how to survive on the street, Elena. You’ll come back." But she didn’t. She disappeared, like smoke—except she didn’t vanish, not really. She lived. She wore colour again. Laughed at bad jokes. Let strange men hand her coffee and ask for her number. Lucien? He watched. He watched her become someone without him. And it drove him mad. The night he cornered her outside the gallery, rain in his hair and desperation in his eyes, he looked like a man undone. "Elena," he breathed, "please. Look at me. Just once." She did. Calm as ever, and her love already gone.

When did I stop seeing her as my best friend? Ever since the day we met, I've thought of her as a little sister. She was a girl that needed my protection. But something changed. She grew up, and now, when I look at her, I want to kiss her and make her mine. But I can't. She's my friend and more than that she's my bodyguard. I do not mix business and pleasure.