Kieran didn't wait for Nicole to finish whatever she was trying to say. He rushed out of the office, nearly trampling her in his haste.
He didn't even get a chance to look around—because suddenly, a flurry of arms and legs wrapped tightly around him.
It was his wife.
Genesis clung to him like he was the only solid thing in a world spinning out of control, her limbs locking around him as if trying to climb him like a tree. He looked down to find tears streaking her cheeks. She was trembling violently, her skin covered in goosebumps.
Her nails dug into his skin as she clutched at him, desperate. Without hesitation, he picked her up properly, letting her hook her legs more securely around his waist. She buried her face into the crook of his neck.
Kieran closed his eyes, trying to steady his own heart. This scared him—badly. He glanced at his watch.
Only five minutes had passed. Just five.
He turned back toward the office—and saw Dr. Philip already standing at the door, a thoughtful look on his face.
-"It seems she panics when you're out of her sight for too long," Philip murmured, observing Genesis, who was still wrapped tightly around Kieran like a small, terrified monkey. Kieran had settled into one of the office chairs, holding her close.
Kieran nodded. She'd finally stopped trembling as much and was now quietly sucking on a lollipop, her breaths slow but shaky. She seemed calmer, but the grip she had on him was still firm.
The last time she'd clung to him like this was after the near-kidnapping incident—she hadn't let go of him for more than a day. And ever since she almost harmed herself the previous night—even if she didn't remember it—she'd followed him everywhere that morning, refusing to let him out of her sight.
He didn't understand why. But it worried him.
Philip stepped forward slowly, and Genesis immediately tightened her hold on Kieran's shirt.
"Genesis," the doctor said softly, voice calm and even.
No response. No twitch. No glance. Nothing.
Kieran looked down at her, concern darkening his eyes. "Princess?" he whispered, brushing a damp curl from her cheek. She didn't react. Just kept sucking the lollipop and clutching his shirt like it was her lifeline.
Philip exchanged a glance with Kieran. "She heard me. She's responding—but not in the way we'd hope."
Kieran frowned. "Then why isn't she answering?"
Philip crouched beside them, careful not to move too close. "Because to her, I'm a stranger. And strangers mean danger. Her brain doesn't trust unfamiliar faces—especially male ones. You're the only one she feels safe with right now."
Kieran's chest tightened. "So what do I do?"
"Right now? Hold her. Let her come down from the panic. We'll try again in a few minutes," Philip said gently. "The goal isn't to get her to respond to me immediately—it's to make sure she doesn't associate this room or me with fear."
Kieran nodded and leaned back slightly, resting his chin on her head. She was still trembling, though it had eased a bit. Her breath tickled against his neck, shallow and uneven.
He rubbed gentle circles along her back, trying to soothe her, whispering soft reassurances even though she wasn't answering.
"She was fine," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. "I swear, she was fine when I left…"
Philip gave a slow nod. "Her nervous system isn't. It's on high alert all the time. When you left, her mind assumed the worst again—that something bad was happening. That you weren't coming back. She's still living in survival mode."
Kieran's throat tightened. "So how do we fix this?"
"We don't rush it," Philip said, voice soft but firm. "We help her feel safe enough to let go—safe enough to breathe without clinging to you. It'll be a slow, step-by-step process."
Kieran shifted slightly and looked down at her. "I'm here, baby. I'm not going anywhere. You hear me?"
She didn't nod or speak. But then her lips moved faintly—silent words he barely caught.
Don't leave me.
His heart clenched. "Never," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I'll never leave you."
He looked up at Philip. "So… what happens now?"
Philip moved to the desk and placed his tablet down, folding his arms. "Now we begin the real work. We set up a trauma recovery plan that fits her specific needs. Genesis is showing severe separation anxiety—likely triggered by previous trauma. Possibly abandonment or a fear of being taken."
Kieran glanced down at her, still wrapped tightly around him like her life depended on it.
Maybe it did.
"What kind of plan?"
"Therapy," Philip replied. "Structured, consistent therapy. Gentle exposure therapy to help her slowly tolerate being apart from you—without triggering panic. And I want to introduce EMDR—Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing. It allows the brain to process trauma without needing her to describe everything out loud."
Kieran ran a hand down her back again, nodding slowly.
"I'll do whatever it takes," he said. "Just… help me bring her back."
Kieran nodded slowly, taking it all in.
"We'll also start her on somatic therapy," Philip continued. "It focuses on how the body stores trauma. That trembling you felt, the goosebumps, the way she clung to you—that's her nervous system reacting. It's not just emotion. Somatic work helps her regain control over those physical responses."
Kieran's voice came out low. "And if she can't let me out of her sight?"
Philip nodded, unsurprised. "Then we don't force it. Take her with you. If you're working, bring her to the office. Make accommodations. Let her feel safe, and we'll slowly build her tolerance for short separations over time. She's still doing ballet, right?"
Kieran gave a small nod.
"Then she should keep at it. Routine is important. It gives her something to hold onto—familiar steps, familiar music. Ballet also helps her reconnect with her body, helps her feel in control again. Just make sure the instructors are aware of what she's going through. They need to be gentle, patient. No sudden changes."
Kieran's hand kept rubbing her back, slow and steady, like he was grounding himself through her. His jaw was tight. "This is… a lot."
Philip gave him a steady look. "It is. But she has you. That's more than most people in her situation ever get."
Kieran exhaled, a shaky breath that held the weight of fear and love tangled together. "And if she never speaks again?"
"She might. She might not," Philip said softly, honestly. "But communication isn't limited to words. Right now, she's speaking through every action—how she looks at you, how she holds on, how she refuses to let go. That's still a voice. And it matters."
Kieran looked down at her. She was calmer now, no longer trembling. Just curled up in his arms, small and quiet, her thumb resting against the empty stick of the lollipop like it was her last piece of comfort.
"She mouthed something earlier," he whispered. "Said 'don't leave me.' But… no sound."
Philip's gaze softened. "She said what mattered. That's the foundation we build on."
Kieran pressed a kiss to the side of her head, his voice steady now.
"Then we do it. All of it."
Philip offered a faint smile, one that held hope. "Good. We start tomorrow."