Page 148 of The Chaos She Brings

She doesn’t recoil. She doesn’t rush to fill the silence with empty platitudes.

Instead, she leans forward slightly, resting her hands gently on the notepad in her lap. “That’s a lot to carry on your own,” she says, her voice low and even. “Thank you for telling me.”

The lump in my throat tightens. I dig my nails into my palm, half expecting her to look at me differently now—to see me as tainted, broken.

But she just waits, patient, steady, as if giving me space to breathe.

“How are you feeling about that?” she asks, no judgment in her tone. Just an invitation.

I let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know.” The truth comes out as a whisper. “I don’t even know what I want.”

Doctor Morgan nods, as if she understands that too. “Then let’s figure it out together.”

By the time I finish telling her the abridged version of my story—skipping over the blood and the murder—I feel lighter. Not weightless, not fixed. But lighter.

And somewhere in the telling, I realise something: based on my cycle, the chances of the baby being Kai’s are much higher than Nikolai’s.

That knowledge has me breathing easier.

I still want to know for certain. But the desperation isn’t as sharp. The need doesn’t claw at my insides the way it did before.

She leads me back into the waiting room where Carina sits, reading one of my spicy books with absolutely no shame. Running over, I snatch it off her. “What the fuck! You can’t read this in public!”

She grins at me, wiggling her eyebrows. “Just looking for inspiration.”

I look down at the book in my hand, then back at her, scared to ask whether the inspiration is for sex or murder. Probably both.

We wave goodbye to Doctor Morgan, after Carina makesher promise to catch up over coffee—hot chocolate for Carina. If I didn’t already know that she was psychotic, it would be confirmed in her distaste for coffee.

By the time I get home, I’m exhausted, the mental tax of discussing everything hits me hard.

Kai’s at the office; I told him to go in without me for once since I’d be with Carina.

The emptiness and quiet taunts me. But I think back to something Doctor Morgan said during our session:

“Silence isn’t the enemy, Tess. It’s just a space—one you get to fill however you choose. Right now, it feels heavy because it’s been carrying things you don’t want to face. But it can hold other things too. Peace. Rest. Even hope.”

The memory of her words settles over me, soft but firm.

I take a slow breath.

Maybe silence doesn’t have to be something I fight against. Maybe, little by little, I can learn to exist in it without feeling swallowed whole.

49

I’m Glad You’re A Murderer

One month later...

Tess to Kai: Would we have ever met if I never killed Jake? I hope so. [unsent]

Tess

Myhearthammersagainstmy ribs as I wait for the doctor to call my name.

Kai’s hand rests on my thigh, grounding me while every instinct screams at me to bolt—bury my head in the sand and pretend none of this is happening.

“Tessa Sinclair?”