Leo's footsteps echoed down the marble hallway, each step quicker than the last time, desperate. The cold air of the basement wrapped around him as he descended, his breath catching in his throat and his chest still tight from the panic attack.
He fumbled for the keys in his pocket with shaking hands. Metal clinked against metal until he found the right one and shoved it into the door at the end of the corridor, and twisted with more force than necessary.
The door creaked open, revealing the dim interior of the private underground garage—his escape. His sanctuary.
He stumbled toward the far end, where a sleek black car sat beneath a single fluorescent light. The glow buzzed faintly above, and the silence only made the roaring in his ears louder.
Slamming the door shut behind him, he collapsed into the driver's seat, the leather cold against his skin. His hands gripped the steering wheel like a lifeline.
He shut his eyes tight.
"Not again… not again…not again this time please" he whispered, forehead resting against the wheel, distress thinking the past that been hunting him.
The flashbacks hadn't been this bad in months. But something about the flickering lights… that sound, that strobe—just like the night it all fell apart. The night Genna vanished. The night the world turned against him.
A low whimper escaped his throat before he could stop it. His entire body trembled, knuckles white on the wheel. He hadn't cried like this in years, but the tears came now—hot, silent, and relentless.
He couldn't go back upstairs. Couldn't face Melody. Not with eyes like this. Not when the past still had claws sunk so deep into him.
With a surge of instinct, he turned the key in the ignition.
The engine roared to life.
No destination. Just drive.
Anywhere but here.
He had only one thought in his mind: Dr. Elistair. The family psychiatrist. The only one who knew what Leo had been through behind the headlines.
Gripping the wheel harder, he pulled out of the garage and into the night. The city lights blurred past his windshield, but all Leo could see were the memories flashing behind his eyes.
He didn't know how long he'd been driving when he reached the familiar neighborhood. The old building stood just as he remembered—quiet, dignified, the porch light still on despite the hour.
He parked on the street, staggered out of the car, and stumbled up the stairs like a man caught in a storm.
He rang the doorbell once, then again, leaning heavily on the doorframe for support.
Moments passed.
Then the door creaked open, and a gentle, concerned voice broke through the fog.
"Leo?"
The soft glow of a hallway lamp illuminated Dr. Elistair's weathered face. His silver-rimmed glasses caught the light as he peered at Leo, his features shifting instantly from confusion to quiet concern.
"Leo, what happened?" he asked, stepping aside.
Leo didn't answer. He couldn't. His throat felt raw, as if all the words had been scraped out of him. Instead, he stepped inside in silence, the warm air of the house washing over his chilled skin.
Dr. Elistair guided him gently toward the sitting room, where an old leather armchair waited near the fireplace. The flickering flames offered comfort, but Leo's eyes were empty, fixed on nothing.
He sat stiffly, his hands folded tightly in his lap, knuckles still pale. His jaw twitched as he tried to hold himself together.
"I… I lost it," he finally whispered, voice hoarse. "In front of everyone."
Dr. Elistair sat across from him, nodding once, allowing the silence to stretch.
"The lights—just flickering—and it all came back. The cameras, the shouting… Genna… her fans, their voices. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't stop it."
His fingers gripped the armrest. "And Melody—she saw. She saw everything. The shouting, the panic. She tried to help and I… I pushed her away."
He paused, his breath shaking. "No, I ran. I always run."
Dr. Elistair leaned forward slightly. "What did you feel in that moment, Leo?"
Leo blinked. The question cracked something open inside him.
"Like I was drowning," he said. "Like I was back there again. On that street. The night they turned on me. Their eyes, their hate—it's like it never left. Like I'm still on trial for something I didn't do."
His voice cracked.
"I didn't hurt her," he said, softer now. "I tried to protect her."
Dr. Elistair nodded, his expression unreadable but deeply attentive.
"You were a boy they painted into a villain," he said gently. "And you've been carrying that ghost on your back ever since."
Leo looked down at his hands. "I thought I was getting better. I thought the nightmares were over."
"Healing isn't linear," Dr. Elistair replied calmly. "You've built a life, a company, a reputation… but your mind remembers the cracks in the foundation. That pain doesn't vanish because we cover it with success."
Leo let out a bitter laugh. "And what about the people I hurt along the way? I shut Melody out. Again."
He turned his face toward the fire, his voice lower. "She's the only person who makes me feel like I'm not... broken. And now she probably thinks I'm dangerous."
"No," the doctor said firmly. "She saw a man in pain. And pain doesn't make you dangerous, Leo. Hiding it does."
That silence returned—dense, but no longer suffocating.
Leo sank deeper into the chair, as if finally allowing himself to feel the weight he'd been avoiding.
"I don't know how to fix this," he murmured. "Not with her. Not with myself."
"You start by not running anymore," Dr. Elistair said, his tone gentle but unwavering. "You face the pieces. You talk to Melody. You tell her the truth."
Leo's jaw clenched.
"The truth," he echoed. "That I'm still haunted? That the moment things go wrong, I lose control?"
"No," the doctor said, standing slowly. "The truth that you're healing. And that it takes more strength to be vulnerable than to be perfect."
He placed a hand on Leo's shoulder.
"Sleep here tonight. Get some rest. Tomorrow, you face the morning not as a CEO, not as a survivor—but as a man willing to let someone see him."
Leo didn't reply. But he didn't run, either.
And for now… that was enough.
In a meantime Leo's phone keeps ringing