The sun beamed through the crevices of the window blinds, casting its ever-glowing light on the couple cuddling in bed. The man’s eyes slowly opened as he took in the woman beside him. He placed a loving kiss on her forehead and closed his eyes, not wanting to get up.

On the other side of town, the sunrise shone on a woman laying asleep in bed while her partner bustled around quietly packing their own clothes in a suitcase, eager to make an exit before the other had a chance to even lift an eyelid.

To her disappointment, Camila López stirred awake in bed. The other woman cursed under her breath as she tried to grab the last remaining item.

“Harper?” Camila’s weary voice whispered in confusion as she spotted the woman across the room who was about to leave without a word.

Harper stops in her tracks and lets out a heavy sigh.

“Where are you going?” Camila asked with hesitancy as she got up with the sheet wrapped around her frame.

Harper inhaled a deep breath and turned to face her girlfriend of two years.

“Camila, I can’t do this anymore.” Her voice held frustration.

“We fight almost every night, and you always try to fix things by having sex,” she further adds.

“Excuse me,” Camila sighs, combing her fingers through her hair.

“If I remember correctly, you were the one who came to my room last night. I told you to sleep on the couch.”

“Well, maybe I was trying to love you in the way of your own love language, hoping that would help you feel better.” Harper shakes her head, feeling frustrated.

“I try to do that, but you never think to love me back in my own language. You used to, but it’s been three months since then. I would think I am just here for sex and not love,” Harper adds while Camila remains quiet.

“I can’t keep doing this with you.”

Camila replaced the bed sheet with her robe and slowly took two steps toward the woman, who took one step back.

“Do what exactly?” Camila stops and breathes a deep breath.

“What is this really about?”

“Let’s not make this harder than it has to be for me, please.”

“What!” Camila bursts out laughing.

“Ha-harder...for you?” She glares, furious.

“If you really cared, you would’ve stayed and talked about our problem, but you always found an excuse not to talk.”

“Problems. Plural.” Harper dropped the bags to the floor, deciding it was time to lay everything on the table.

“It never made sense to me to talk to you about it, because you’d always brush it off with a joke or whiskey. But you made a big deal about the situation when you became angry because I unintentionally shattered your fucking picture frame. It’s just a picture frame, Camila. It can be replaced.”

Camila stood there, furious.

“It’s not just a picture frame; my dad gave it...”

“Yeah. Your druggie daddy gave it to you for your 16th birthday.” Harper rolled her eyes, her tone childish, not caring about sparing others’ feelings anymore.

“Since you lost your job, all you do is lay around and eat all the food I have to replace every weekend. You wake up, eat, watch your stupid films, and repeat. I am fucking tired of your shit!”

Harper has never been the type to hurl hurtful words at Camila.

The picture frame was not of any importance; it’s the engraving that means the most. Harper also had no right to degrade her dad in such a way.

Camila’s breathing became ragged as tears welled up in her eyes, and the memory of her dad saturated her mind. This year has been stressful enough for her in numerous ways, and losing her job was just the icing on the cake. If she does not salvage what’s left of this relationship, she’ll lose the love of her life too.

“Harper, I’m trying.” Camila’s voice broke slightly as her emotions began to overwhelm her.

“I know it has been hard losing your dad and then getting fired all in a span of a few months, but you’re an adult. You have responsibilities. I gave you some time to grieve, but all you’ve been interested in is eating and being a lazy mess. I gotta be the one to come home every day after work and clean. I’ve tried to help the best I can, but I think you should get professional help at this point Camila. You’re beyond damaged, and I can’t fix you. God knows I’m sick of trying.”

Camila felt her heart drop to her stomach and took three large steps towards her girlfriend while Harper remained still.

“Harp…” her voice faltered as a lump formed in her throat.

“I promise I’ll do better. I’ll get a job and pull my weight around here. I’ll be a better girlfriend; I swear I will.”

Camila’s cheeks became wet with the tears she couldn’t hold back any longer. She grabbed Harper’s left hand and covered it with her own.

However, Harper turned away and pulled her hand from Camila’s grasp. She could no longer make eye contact with the other woman; eyes that would make her feel every emotion the other was battling inside. She always had that effect on Harper, if not everyone she’s ever encountered. There was just something about those brown eyes that reeled you in.

“I’m sorry, but I gotta do this for me,” Harper met Camila’s gaze with a look of determination.

“I’m leaving, since this is your place.”

Harper was reaching for her suitcase when Camila’s hand sprang forward to seize her arm.

“Please don’t leave me.”

Camila’s voice broke with each plea.

“I’m all alone.”

Even admitting that was hard for her.

“You’ll be fine,” Harper withdrew her arm from the other woman’s grasp. “I’m sorry things had to end this way.”

And she truly was, but Camila tended to play the ‘I’m all alone’ card one too many times so Harper began to feel trapped within the relationship. She needed to be free again and not feel stifled by the words ‘I love you’.

 The relationship became a chore for her, and her feelings for Camila diminished.

“Bullshit!”

Camila wiped her cheeks with the palm of her hand. Her tears now transmuted into anger. She walked adamantly to her bedside table, pulling out the half bottle of whiskey.

“Just go. I don’t want to see your face anymore,” she mumbled before taking a large sip, a grimace forming on her face from the bitterness.

“Mila…”

Harper hesitated by the door as she watched her. She hated seeing her drink recklessly.

“Leave!” Camila yelled.

Harper winced slightly by her outburst and didn’t think twice before leaving the house without looking back.

Camila sat on the edge of her bed, drowning in the remaining whiskey from the bottle.

“Everything has been such a shitshow since you left, dad.”

The loving couple who cuddled in bed no longer had the privilege, as they had to prepare themselves for the day ahead.

Lena Malone stood in their kitchen, the scent of bacon filling the air. She hummed along to the music that played through the sound system in her home, swaying her hips as she did so.

Her back turned, Austin entered the kitchen, his eyes trailing down the woman’s body. As Austin walked over unnoticed, he gently placed his arms around her waist, resting his head on her shoulder.

Today marked their third year together, and they intended to celebrate it at the end of the day, as they both had work to attend to.

Lena works as a private psychotherapist, while Austin is a professor at the local university.

“Happy anniversary,” Austin’s husky voice whispered in her ear.

Lena shivered at the feeling.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and brought him close for a passionate kiss. They had a pre-celebration last night in bed, but as Austin’s hands explored her lower body and the kiss intensified, Lena thought an orgasm would be just the thing she needed to give her a boost of energy.

Caffeine would do the trick, but who was to say she couldn’t have both?

“You want to go upstairs?” Austin whispered.

He breathed into the crook of her neck as he covered the area with wet kisses. Lena released a soft moan in pleasure, and he took that as her answer. With one swift move, he lifted her up in one rapid movement, and she wrapped her legs around his waist.

Lena wouldn’t mind having him on the counter, but she didn’t want to be scolded. Austin was never as adventurous as Lena, but he was still just as good in bed in some areas.

Lena’s clothes fell from her body in a matter of seconds, tossing her onto the bed. Austin hovered over her as he unbuckled his belt, sporting a grin.

The bed shifted against the hardwood floor. Lena emitted a groan as she repeatedly felt his manhood press against her spot. In lustful pleasure, she sunk her fingernails into his back.

Austin suddenly stopped his movements by the sudden aggression.

“I’m sorry, you just feel so good,” Lena apologized.

Austin never liked that kind of behavior in bed. He was vanilla, while Lena was a kaleidoscope of colors.

He placed her hands above her head to keep them in place. Lena loved it when he took control, but at times, she felt restricted from being herself.

Ignoring her desire for wanting more, she focused on Austin above her and the warm wetness between her legs.

“Don’t stop,” she urged.

“I’m close.”

Lena’s sounds of ecstasy grew louder in his ear, and he smirked, because he, too, was close to the edge.

“Fuck!”

Meanwhile, Camila López decided to take Harper’s advice to seek professional help. She had caught herself in an emotional rage, going through the cabinets for the other bottle of whiskey she hid from Harper.

As she was about to take a huge swig of the liquid with high hopes of numbing the overwhelming pain inside her chest, an image of her father passing out on the couch stopped her.

Rodrigo López had just gotten back from a long day at work in the office. Camila first found him drowning in his own tears for the third time that week. She gave him a hug, but he had sent her away to her room, wanting to be alone. This had become a routine. Rodrigo would send her to her room, and then he would resort to alcohol until he became numb to the pain.

That would be about the time he’d become unconscious.

Camila hated seeing her father in that condition, and if she were to follow him, she would end up next to him nine feet below in the cemetery.

She intended to make both her parents proud, but Camila wasn’t the best at healing her own heart to get to that point yet.

So instead of being at home in her own filth, she had a proper shower, brushed the tangles out of her hair, ate some fruit instead of a shot of whiskey, and drove to town.

Harper previously mentioned that there was a therapist who could help her. She said the woman was reputable to the highest degree, as well as easy on the eyes. Camila ignored the last part out of fear of another argument over her jealousy.

As she parked her car, Camila gathered her bag and diary. Camila decided that instead of talking to the therapist, she would give her the diary.

Camila was afraid she would break down trying to explain the reason she came in the first place. Therefore, she held out hope that the doctor would show compassion and allow her to proceed in her own way.

Little does she know that she won’t have the control she wants inside that room.

Camila walked into the building and removed her scarf. She explored the interior of the room she was in. The white walls were plastered with posters about mental health. There was a black leather sofa in the corner of the room, along with a glass coffee table in the center. A variety of magazines were on top.

“May I help you, miss?”

The lady who sat to the left of Camila tried to get her attention. The blonde woman held a friendly smile and expressed concern in her eyes. She was sitting behind a black table that had a desktop computer and papers scattered. Her desk looked a mess compared to the room itself.

“I’m not sure, can you?”

The blonde woman furrowed her brows for a minute, then a look of understanding came across her face.

“Are you here to see Dr. Malone?”

Camila gave a nod.

“Do you have an appointment?”

The woman raised a brow in question.

Camila decided to close the distance, leaning her weight against the receptionist’s desk.

“No, do I need one?”

“I’m afraid so.”

The lady searched through the pile of papers on her desk in haste, noting the impatience in Camila’s demeanor.

“Oh! Here we go.”

She passed the paperwork to Camila and gave her a few instructions.

“Please fill this out, and I’ll get you registered. When you’re finished, let me know when you would like to see Dr. Malone.”

“Can’t I see her now?”

Camila became annoyed as she took the form from the woman’s outstretched hand.

“It’s kind of important, Miss...”

Camila looked at the nameplate on her desk.

“…Nelson.”

Mrs. Nelson gave her a polite smile, then turned to her computer.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

After a minute or two, she met Camila’s impatient gaze who remained on her the entire time.

“I’m afraid Dr. Malone is booked for today and the remainder of the week.”

Camila shook her head profusely and uttered profanities under her breath.

“Listen, lady, if I don’t see Dr. Malone right now, something bad is going to happen.”

“I understand—”

“You don’t understand shit—I am this close to alcohol poisoning. This close!”

Camila demonstrated with her index finger and her thumb. She proceeded to go on a rant about the reasons why she needed to see Dr. Malone, and didn’t notice that the therapist herself, had just arrived and was now standing a few feet behind.

“…so, if I don’t see her now, I’m going to do something I’m going to regret,” Camila finished.

“Dr. Malone!”

Mrs. Nelson rose from her seat.

“I was informing her that you are fully booked.”

Camila turned swiftly around to face the therapist. The fire in her brown eyes calmed as she met a sea of greens. The woman before her had a gorgeous brown complexion and long black, midnight curly hair that framed her face perfectly. She was younger than Camila had expected.

Lena Malone placed a hand on her hip and raised an eyebrow at the other woman, suddenly realizing that Camila’s eyes were undressing her.

“You really are easy on the eyes, aren’t you?”

Camila said it with disgust, surprising both Dr. Malone and her receptionist.

Mrs. Nelson gasped in disbelief.

“I’m so sorry, Dr. Malone. She came in asking to see you, but I told her you were booked.”

The receptionist further reiterated.

Lena cleared her throat to clear the tension in the room.

“It’s fine, Cynthia.”

She waved her off then turned to the other woman.

“What is your name?”

She asked politely.

“Camila.”

“Camila,” she replied, testing the word on her tongue.

Camila shifted her weight to her other foot, growing uncomfortable by Lena’s piercing gaze.

“I’ve got an hour until my first patient. Until then, I’m all yours.”

She gave Camila a small smile despite her rude outbursts earlier.

“Come with me.”

Camila followed a few feet behind Dr. Malone. She had to force her eyes away from the woman’s ass as her hips swayed in a tightly fitted navy blue skirt.

They entered another room at the end of the hallway and Dr. Malone held the door open for her. Camila entered, suddenly growing more nervous by the enclosed space.

The reality of her situation almost knocked the wind from her chest, and in attempt to calm her racing heartbeat, she inhaled a deep breath.

Dr. Malone did not seem like she would bite, but that wasn’t comforting enough.

As she sat facing Lena, her nerves increased.

“What brings you here, Camila?”