Chapter 37 - So, Alexander How have you been feeling?
Alexander sat in the dark leather chair in his office. The room was lit only by a corner lamp, which cast a yellowish glow over the books lined up on wooden shelves. Across from him, the psychologist adjusted his glasses, crossed his legs, and watched him with measured silence.
"So, Alexander," the psychologist said calmly. "How have you been feeling since Helena ran away?"
Alexander took a deep breath. His trembling hands clasped together as if seeking reassurance.
"I don't understand... I don't understand why she ran away. Why did she need all this?" His voice sounded bitter, as if he were swallowing stones. "I cared for her. I did everything in my power. I never... I never wanted to hurt her."
The psychologist tilted his head to the side.
"Maybe she was very afraid of you."
Alexander looked up in surprise. There was a glint of suppressed fury, but also of fragility. "Fear? But... I never touched her aggressively. I just wanted... to protect her. I just wanted to be with her."
"Alexander," the psychologist replied patiently. "It doesn't always take a physical act to create fear. Sometimes, someone's intensity can be suffocating. Her constant presence, her gaze, her words... you told me yourself, in our last sessions, that you felt possessed by a need to have her around all the time."
Alexander looked away, staring at the closed office window, where only the reflection of the light from within appeared.
"I feel... sad. Abandoned. It's as if she ripped something out of me when she left. It didn't have to be like this. She could have simply said... that she didn't want to anymore."
The psychologist leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
"She tried, Alexander. On several occasions. But you didn't listen."
The silence fell like a weight over the room. Alexander clenched his fists, the muscles in his arms tense like ropes about to snap.
"I just wanted to be the best I could be for her," he said quietly. "And even then, it wasn't enough."
The psychologist took a deep breath before answering.
"Sometimes, the problem isn't being 'the best.' It's how that 'best' manifests itself. You were obsessed, Alexander. You did everything for her, but at the same time, you were possessive. You told me once that when Dante talked to her, you felt like removing her from his presence, at any cost."
Alexander suddenly lifted his head, interrupting him.
"Dante is dangerous. I didn't want him to hurt her! He's like a rabid dog, without limits. I would never allow her to suffer at his hands."
The psychologist kept his tone firm, undeterred.
"And you're the one who decides that? You're the one who determines who she can and can't be with?"
Alexander hesitated. The question echoed in his mind like a blow. He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out.
"Look, Alexander," the psychologist continued, taking advantage of the silence. "Protecting someone isn't the same as imprisoning them. You confused care with control. Helena couldn't breathe around you. You watched her, watched her every step, and called it protection. But for her, it was a prison."
Alexander ran a hand through his hair nervously.
"I just didn't want her to be hurt..."
"And in the process, you ended up hurting her in another way," the psychologist concluded. "Not with physical violence, but with the weight of your obsession."
Alexander lowered his head. He felt naked before the words. There were no excuses, only a throbbing emptiness inside him.
"What do I do now?" he asked, almost whispering.
The psychologist adjusted his glasses again.
"Now you have to accept it. Helena left because she chose to go. If you truly loved her, you should allow her to decide her own path. Love isn't possession, Alexander. It's freedom. If there's a next time, don't repeat this pattern. Be more normal, more human. Not so obsessed."
Alexander looked up, his eyes welling.
"But it hurts. It hurts like they're ripping my heart out with their bare hands."
"I know it hurts," the psychologist said sympathetically. "The pain of loss is real, but it can also be a teacher. Use this pain to learn, not to destroy yourself."
Alexander fell silent. The ticking of the wall clock felt like a hammer inside his head. For the first time, he allowed the idea of letting Helena go to rest in his mind.
"And Dante?" he asked suddenly, as if the name were an open wound. "He's dangerous, I have no doubt. If she gets involved with him, it will end badly."
"Maybe," the psychologist replied. "But that's her choice, not yours. You can't be someone's eternal guardian against their will. If Helena wants to stay with Dante, she'll be the one to face the consequences, not you."
Alexander took a deep breath, leaning back in the chair as if his body weighed tons.
"So... should I let her go?" he asked hesitantly.
"Yes." The psychologist nodded. "That's the greatest act of love you can offer. Letting her live the life she chose."
Alexander closed his eyes. Images of Helena came to mind: her brief smile, her frightened eyes, the silences he interpreted as shyness, but which were perhaps just fear. He was finally beginning to understand.
"What if one day I meet her again?" he asked, opening his eyes, but now with less anger and more vulnerability.
The psychologist smiled slightly.
"So, if that happens, may you be ready. May it be different. May she look at you and see a man, not a shadow haunting her."
Alexander fell silent again. There was something liberating and, at the same time, terrifying in those words.
When the session ended, he walked out of the office, walking slowly, as if carrying an invisible burden. The night wind blew against his face as he crossed the street. For the first time, he didn't feel like running after Helena. He just walked, the pain throbbing in his chest, but with a seed of reflection planted in his mind.
Maybe it was too late to win Helena back. But it wasn't too late to face his own abyss.