The Echo in Room 14

But Leo kept coming. And he kept asking questions.

Elena sat on her office floor. She pulled out the hidden books— Shame and the Self first. Page 43 was creased. She had read it ten times.

She underlined them for herself.

The therapist was silent. Then: “Welcome to the work, Elena. Most of us start when our own echo gets too loud to ignore.”

“I don’t flinch.”

For six months, she avoided the worn books. She doubled her supervision hours. She told herself she was being professional.

She had known. For twenty years, she had known her own story: the quiet father, the mother who said “you’re fine,” the adult who became a psychologist to fix everyone but herself.