Chapter One Hundred And Three

Chapter 103  

The quiet stillness of the psychiatric facility's garden was interrupted only by the gentle rustling of leaves in the evening breeze. Jemima sat on a weathered bench, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. The session earlier in the day had been one of the hardest yet, and though she felt progress inching forward, the weight of it all still bore down on her. 

She looked up at the stars peeking through the gaps in the branches above, their faint light offering a fragile sense of hope. For the first time in what felt like years, the cacophony in her mind had quieted, and she found herself alone with her thoughts. No Jemma, no intrusive whispers—just her. It was unsettling but also liberating.  

“This is what it’d feel like,” she whispered to herself, inhaling deeply. “No Jemma, no intrusive thought, just peace.”

Jay's words from the night before replayed in her mind— “You're not alone in this.”
And for once, she wanted to believe him.  

A crunch of gravel drew her attention. Turning her head, she saw Dr. Elara approaching, a soft smile on her face. She carried a thermos and two mugs, her demeanor as calm as ever.  

“Hello Dr Elara,” Jemima greeted with a wide grin plastered across her face. She adjusted on the bench and made way for dr Elara to have her seat. 

“Hello to you too Jemima,” dr Elara greeted with a quiet enthusiasm and returned the smile. Her smile revealed a set of pearly whites that made Jemima feel safe. 

"Here you go. Thought you might want some tea," Dr. Elara said, handing her a mug as she settled onto the bench beside Jemima.  

Jemima accepted the mug gratefully, the warmth seeping into her palms. "You do think tea is the solution to everything huh?” she murmured.  

“What did you say?” Dr Elara asked softly, not quite catching what Jemima murmured. Jemima took a sip of the tea. 

“I said you do think that tea is the solution to everything,” Jemima reiterated, smiling. 

“Well Jemima, you have to agree to that don’t you think?”

“Thank you— for the tea of course,” Jemima appreciated, clasping the mug in her hands. 

“So what brings you out here Doc?” Jemima queried, taking another sip of her tea. 

“What do you mean? Can’t a doctor enjoy a simple outdoor nature with her client?” Dr Elara inquired, feigning annoyance which caused Jemima to chuckle. 

“Of course you can but small talk makes me uncomfortable so what is the deal doc?” Jemima persisted, her anxiety rising slowly at the possibility that something might be wrong. 

Dr. Elara took a sip of her tea and cleared her throat before speaking. "You've made remarkable progress, Jemima. I know it doesn't always feel that way, but I see it. The courage it took to confront Jemma and the honesty you've shown in our sessions—it's not easy work."  

Jemima stared into her mug, watching the steam curl upward. "It doesn't feel like progress," she admitted. "I still feel... fractured. I keep wondering if this is how it’s going to be for the rest of my life, I keep on wondering if this is the most healed I’m ever gonna get. I keep on wondering what if my father hadn’t done what he had.” Jemima sniffed n

"That's normal," Dr. Elara assured her. "Healing isn't linear. Some days, it will feel like you're taking steps backward, but those moments are just as important as the steps forward. It's all part of the process."  

Jemima nodded, though her chest still felt tight. "What if I never feel whole?"  

Dr. Elara placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You will. Maybe not in the way you expect, but you will. The fact that you're asking these questions shows how far you've come."  

They sat in silence for a while, the tea warming them against the cool evening air.  

The next morning, Jemima found herself standing in front of a mirror in her room, studying her reflection. The woman staring back at her looked different—older, perhaps, or maybe just more tired. But there was something else, too, a hint of strength in her green eyes that hadn't been there before.  

"Who are you?" she whispered to herself.  

The question lingered in the air, unanswered.  

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. "Come in," she called.  

Jay stepped inside, his presence instantly filling the room. He held a small bouquet of wildflowers in one hand and a lopsided grin on his face.  

"I thought these might brighten your day," he said, holding out the flowers.  

Jemima took them, a genuine smile breaking through her usual guarded expression. "Thank you. They're beautiful."  

Jay shrugged. "Not as beautiful as you."  

She rolled her eyes but felt her cheeks warm. "You're impossible."  

"And you love it," he teased, sitting on the edge of the bed.  

Jemima placed the flowers in a glass of water on the nightstand, her movements slow and deliberate. "What are you doing here so early?"  

"I wanted to see you," Jay said simply. "How was your session yesterday?"  

Jemima hesitated, unsure how to put her feelings into words. "It was... intense. But I think it helped."  

Jay nodded, his expression serious. "You're doing amazing, Jem. I know it's not easy, but you're stronger than you think."  

Her gaze softened as she looked at him. "Thank you. For everything."  

Jay reached for her hand, intertwining their fingers. "You don't have to thank me. I'm here because I want to be."  

Jemima allowed herself to believe him.  

Later that day, Jemima joined Dr. Kaine for another session. The office was quiet, the soft hum of a white noise machine creating a soothing backdrop.  

"Today, I want to try something different," Dr. Kaine said, her tone gentle but firm.  

Jemima raised an eyebrow. "Different how?"  

"I want to focus on the future," Dr. Kaine explained. "We've spent a lot of time delving into the past and understanding the roots of your trauma. Now, it's time to think about what comes next."  

The idea both intrigued and terrified Jemima. "What do you mean?"  

Dr. Kaine leaned forward slightly. "I want you to visualize your life after this. What does healing look like to you? What kind of person do you want to be?"  

Jemima frowned, her mind racing. She had spent so long trapped in survival mode that she hadn't allowed herself to dream about the future.  

"I don't know," she admitted.  

"That's okay," Dr. Kaine said. "Take your time. Close your eyes if it helps."  

Jemima did as instructed, her breathing steady as she tried to picture a life beyond the pain. At first, her mind was blank, but slowly, images began to form.  

She saw herself standing in a sunlit garden, laughter ringing in the air. Jay was there, his smile bright and carefree. Ava and her husband were nearby, their children playing at their feet. Marcus sitting in a corner with Dimitri, sharing a meal. Jemima felt a sense of peace, of belonging.  

"I want to feel safe," she said softly, her eyes still closed. "I want to be happy."  

Dr. Kaine smiled. "That's a beautiful vision, Jemima. And it's possible. But it starts with you believing that you deserve it."  

The words struck a chord in Jemima, and she thought to herself— ‘maybe there was hope after all.’

As the weeks went by, Jemima continued to make progress. The nightmares that had once plagued her began to fade, replaced by dreams of the life she wanted to build. She still had moments of doubt or fear, but they were becoming less frequent.  

One evening, as she sat in the common area with a book in her lap, she overheard two patients discussing their plans for the future. Their optimism was infectious, and Jemima found herself smiling.  

"You're glowing," Jay said, appearing at her side.  

She laughed, a sound that felt foreign but wonderful. "Am I?"  

"Absolutely," he said, sitting beside her. "What's got you in such a good mood?"  

Jemima shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I'm starting to feel... lighter."  

Jay's smile widened. "That's amazing, Jem. You deserve it."  

For the first time, Jemima allowed herself to believe him.  

The day she was discharged from the facility, the sun was shining, and the air was crisp with the scent of spring. Jay was waiting for her outside, his car parked at the curb.  

"Ready to go home?" he asked, opening the passenger door for her.  

Jemima hesitated, looking back at the building that had been her refuge for so long. "I think so," she said finally.  

As they drove away, Jemima felt a sense of closure. She wasn't completely healed—she knew that—but she was on her way. And for the first time in years, she felt like she had a future worth fighting for.  

Jay reached over, taking her hand in his. "Welcome back, Jem."  

She smiled, the weight of her past beginning to lift. "It's good to be back."