86. Between Control and Chaos

86. Between Control and Chaos
Emara Stone

Dr. Xavier Lance (Neurosurgeon & Psychiatrist)

I stare at the card in my hand, then look up at the building, confirming the address.

I can’t believe I wasted my Saturday on Company’s inauguration party, and now I am already here to spend my Sunday on Psycho Doctor’s clinic.

I let out a long sigh, and step out of the cab, then walk inside the building mindlessly.

I still don’t know what the hell I am doing here. Maybe curiosity. Maybe desperation. I don’t know!

I’ll figure it out halfway through the session, probably right before I start ranting or throwing something at the crazy doctor.

Taking a deep breath, I push open the glass doors, and step inside the ultra premium clinic that appears less like a medical facility and more like a five star sanctuary for rich people.

Floor to ceiling windows wrap the clinic from the sides, offering a serene view over a private Zen garden. 

Natural light floods through the glass, highlighting warm, earthy tone walls, handcrafted furniture, and quiet luxury in every detail.

The entire space seems to reduce inherent anxieties, whispering that everything-will-be-alright.

I walk past a three layer marble finished water fountain to reach the reception, and say, “Hello! I am Emar-”

“Emara Stone?” The man behind the desk raises his brow at me quietly.

“Umm. Yea.” I state awkwardly, wondering if he can read minds.

“Dr. Lance is expecting you. You can go straight in.” He instructs me with a polite smile.

Okay.. This is not weird!

My feet move skeptically towards his cabin, already having second thoughts.

Eh! I should have been at the bookstore, rather than at the devil’s door.

I take a deep breath and push open the large wooden block, stepping inside his cabin. 

It’s huge. Spacious. Almost like an apartment. 

And homey too.

Plants and pots are lined at the entrance, their leaves surprisingly dust free and vibrant. The entire room smells clean and refreshing, like eucalyptus and fresh linen.

A large glass desk sits in the corner of the room, with an empty black leather chair behind it.

Where is he?

Numerous trophies and certificates adorn on the wall cabinet above it, giving an impression that this place belongs to someone who charges people hundreds of dollars per hour just to listen their feelings.

But where the hell is this psychotic doctor?

I glance to my right, navy blue couches line up on one side, looking ridiculously clean and untouched. Behind them are aquariums.

Not one. Not two. But around fifteen stacked up like an aquarium wall.

Whoa!

Curiously, my feet take me towards the living art installation. 

Water in every tank is crystal clear, perfectly filtered with not a single speck of algae or floating particles in it.

I lean in just to have a good look at the fish. Light dances through the water, catching their vibrant colours and gentle, hypnotic movements.

There are all kinds of fish. Electric purple, tiny shiny silvers, bright colour flamboyant fins, and eerie, almost ghostly transparent ones gliding through the water.

Some are tiny like nails, swimming like bullets in water. While others are larger, moving with slow, regal grace.

As I watch them, several fish swim closer to me curiously. I lift my finger and tap lightly on the cool glass, as if saying Hello!

My fingertip leaves a faint print on the otherwise spotless glass. The only imperfection in this living wall of aquariums.

“Fascinating, right?”

I startle at the smooth voice behind me and spin around frantically to see Dr. Xavier Lance standing a few feet away, watching me with quiet intensity.

An oversized crisp white shirt hangs on his shoulder, while his hands are loosely clasped behind as he observes me with the precision of a surgeon.

“There is a psychology term called, Soft Fascination.” He says calmly, stepping closer towards me and the aquarium.

“The gentle, repetitive motion of fish swimming provides a form of effortless relief to anxious brain. It engages the mind just enough to silent the intrusive thoughts by drowning them in hypnotic movement.”

Xavier comes stand beside me. He appears perfectly composed, yet there is something deeply unnerving the way he is watching the fish glide through water.

“A natural form of meditation.” He speaks with clinical elegance. 

I couldn’t help but notice how his sharp eyes flicker briefly to the faint fingerprint on the glass, and a tiny muscle in his jaw twitches.

This isn’t just a cabin. This is a controlled environment.

“Soft fascination, or more like hardcore infatuation.” I whisper, staring at the vibrant purple fish whose scales shine like liquid golden on turning. 

“Why do you think so?” He asks me, calm as ever.

“If the goal was a simple therapy design, then one tank would have been enough. Even two. But fifteen? All perfectly maintained. Different species. Different ecosystems. With controlled environments.”

I glance at him, grey eyes already staring back at me intriguingly as I state, “This is obsession.”

Xavier flashes a small, controlled smirk. The kind that is polite on the surface, but strangely dark underneath, like I just stepped on a nerve I wasn’t supposed to notice.

“It’s one way to perceive.” He replies casually.

Very quietly, he raises his hand and points toward a lone fish drifting through the tank, looking like Dory lost at sea.

“This is Acanthurus tang. A blue surgeonfish. Highly territorial. Beautiful, but aggressive. They require very specific water parameters and space. Put two of them in the same tank without proper boundaries, and they will tear each other apart.”

He moves to the next tank, where a group of tiny, shimmering silver fish swim in perfect synchronization. 

“On the other hand, Cardinal tetras are small, prey species fish. They survive purely through schooling. Strength in numbers. Isolation for them means death.”

His fingertip hovers an inch away from the glass, carefully avoiding any smudges or spots on the surface.

“Two entirely different worlds co-existing in the same room. One demands dominance and solitude to thrive, while the other can only survive by staying hidden in a crowd.”

Xavier breathes in silently, whispering, “The glass keeps them separated, but close enough to observe. To study. To learn from.”

I stare at him quietly, listening, absorbing what he is saying, and what he is not saying.

“Marine life is fascinating because it reflects us far more than we care to observe. The delicate balance between isolation and connection. Between control and chaos. Between dominance and surrender.”

Grey eyes turn back to me, reeking an unreadable and unsettling energy that I couldn’t really absorb or deflect. 

It just stays around him, like a boundary wall of charged ions.

“Please.” Xavier points his hand towards the empty navy blue sofa as he speaks softly, “Make yourself comfortable.”