The first few days after his session with Dr. Lane felt like walking on a tightrope...shaky, unfamiliar, but strangely hopeful. Jake had left her office with a quiet determination, a sense that maybe there was another way to live with everything he carried inside. He wasn't expecting miracles. Mindfulness wasn't easy especially not for someone like him, who was so used to reacting instantly, whose emotions often felt too big to hold. But he'd promised himself he would try. And try he did. Each morning, Jake sat on the edge of his bed and practiced breathing. Just breathing. At first, it felt ridiculous,like he was pretending to be someone else, someone calmer, steadier, better. But slowly, something shifted. Not all at once, but in small, almost imperceptible ways. When that familiar wave of panic would rise in his chest,when he didn't get a text back fast enough, or when he misread a tone he'd pause. Just for a moment. He'd ask himself: What's really going on here? What am I feeling underneath all of this? One night, after a long day, Jake sat in the dark staring at his phone, Jules's name glowing on the screen. He hadn't heard from him since the night before, and the silence twisted something sharp in his gut. The urge to reach out, to beg for reassurance, clawed at him. But this time, he didn't give in. Instead, he closed his eyes and placed the phone on the nightstand. Why do I need to send this right now? he asked himself. What's really going on inside me? The answer came quietly. I'm lonely. Not angry. Not abandoned. Just lonely. And that was a feeling Jake could sit with. He reached for his journal instead. Letting his guard down, he wrote about the ache in his chest, the quiet fear that he was too much to love, and the tiny voice in his head that said maybe he wasn't. Tears came, unforced and honest. He let them. That night, Jake didn't text Jules. He chose to stay with himself. And somehow, that felt like progress. At lunch the next day, he met up with Emily. There was a softness to their conversation that hadn't been there before. Jake shared a little about the mindfulness work, about how it was helping him pause instead of react. "That's really brave," Emily said, her voice sincere. "I can only imagine how hard that is." Jake offered a small smile. "It is. But… I think I'm finally learning not to be afraid of what I feel. That it doesn't make me broken." Emily reached across the table and squeezed his hand. "I'm proud of you. I mean it." And this time, Jake believed her.
Over the following weeks, the practice deepened. Jake still slipped up....sometimes reacting before he could catch himself, still waking some nights gripped by the old fears. But he had tools now. And he used them. Even his relationship with Jules began to shift. There was less desperation, less emotional whiplash. Jake found the courage to open up,not just about his fears, but his hopes too. And Jules didn't pull away. If anything, he leaned in. One quiet evening, curled on the couch with a movie playing, Jake rested his head on Jules's shoulder. He wasn't thinking about whether Jules would leave, or if he was saying the right thing, or if he was too much. He was just… there. Present. "You seem different," Jules said softly, glancing at him. "More… at peace." Jake looked up at him and nodded. "I think… I am," he whispered. Because for the first time, he was starting to believe in the possibility of healing,not as a finish line, but as something ongoing. Something he was strong enough to face. And that was enough.