CHAPTER TWO :The First Real Session
Matteo had learned one truth in his line of work:
A woman’s silence is never empty.29Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2ulHGXX2LB
It holds back storms.29Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOFIEWy7zxr
It hides screams.29Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgbGitLU4l0
It begs not to be read—yet secretly hopes to be understood.
And Ms. De Luna was quiet.29Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeRcug6WBQY
Too quiet.
Her shoulders were tense, knuckles pale around the cushion she hugged to her chest as if it were armor. Her eyes followed Matteo, but not with lust—with hesitation. With hope she didn’t trust.
That kind of silence?29Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZKq4N9J80l
Matteo never rushed it.
He dimmed the lights—just enough to let shadows soften the edges of the room.29Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEY3bUGW4YD
Then moved to the cabinet beside the chaise and pulled out a soft, gray throw blanket.
He walked over, bent down to her level, and held it out.
"Here," he said, not touching her. “Just something to hold onto if the world feels too loud.”
She blinked, startled.29Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcevVdlm1LL
Then took it—slowly, wordlessly—letting it rest across her lap.
“You’re not here to perform,” Matteo said.29Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZ77CPoBXvS
“You’re not here to please me.29Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5jRRQRJ52w
You’re here to remember that your body still belongs to you.”
The silence thickened.
Then she asked—barely a whisper, but sharp:
“Do they all say that to you? The other women?”
Matteo tilted his head. “Some don’t say anything at all. They cry. They scream. They shiver. They laugh.”
He paused.
“And some just sit there, like you, wondering if I’ll take something from them… or give something back.”
She looked away.
“Which one am I?” she asked.
Matteo didn’t answer immediately. He never did.
Instead, he knelt beside her—not to kneel, but to align. He stayed lower than her, gaze level with her guarded face.
“You’re the kind that makes me forget this is a routine,” he said softly.
He reached for the scented oil—lavender and warm vanilla—and poured just a drop into his hands. He rubbed them together, warming them, letting the room fill with that calming smell.
Then he whispered, “I’ll start with your hands, if that’s okay.”
She nodded once.
And Matteo took her right hand—gently, deliberately—as if holding a secret.
He started at her wrist, thumb pressing softly into the space just below her palm. He worked slowly, tracing forgotten veins, unloved tension.
No words.29Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5yRhW3zeaY
Just breath.29Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡK2pLhPro9C
Just the faint sound of skin against skin.
And her walls—quietly, invisibly—started to fall.
“I used to love this,” she murmured suddenly. “Touch. Skin. I wasn’t always so…”29Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFu3Txd3M1t
She trailed off.
Matteo looked up. “So what?”
She exhaled a shaky laugh. “Numb.”
His hands stilled. Then he let go, only to take her other hand.
“I don’t think you’re numb,” he said. “I think you’re surviving.”
Ten minutes. That’s all he gave.
Just enough to stir what had gone still.29Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡECGjgyYvWZ
Not enough to burn.
When the session ended, she looked different—barely.29Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBxQalaHs6q
But he noticed.
There was color in her cheeks.29Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlzrkTnslnf
A little less steel in her spine.29Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvjG6laOz2d
A little more ache in her gaze.
She stood, clutching the throw blanket like armor.
“I’ll book another appointment,” she said, voice steadier now. “If that’s okay.”
Matteo smiled, eyes unreadable.
“Ms. De Luna… you don’t need to ask permission to come back.29Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoVlcuF4V5H
Not here.”
But as the door closed behind her, Matteo turned to the file she left behind.
His hand hovered over it. Then he opened it again.
In her original intake form, at the very bottom, she had written:
“I don’t want sex. I just want to be seen.”
And for the first time in a long time, Matteo leaned back in his chair…
And let himself feel something, too.
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