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As the session went on, the "companion" in Leo’s mind reminded him to check his own boundaries. To be meant feeling with her, not becoming her. He felt the weight of her grief, but he kept his feet on the rug of his office. This balance allowed him to stay steady enough to guide her.
Leo felt that familiar pull—the urge to jump in with a solution, to offer a "fix" that would smooth over her trembling hands. But the core lesson of his "companion" echoed in his mind:
Late that afternoon, Sarah sat across from him. She didn't speak at first. She just gripped her bag, her knuckles white, her eyes darting around the room as if looking for an exit from her own skin.
