𝔻𝕣. 𝕊𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 (𝕃𝕦𝕧 & 𝕂𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕒) [ℕ𝕊𝔽𝕎]

[Koura]

DR. STRANGELOVE ​ ・┈ ﹕ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇs ﹕ ᴄᴏʀʀᴜᴘᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛᴇᴀsᴇ & ᴅᴇɴɪᴀʟ ᴘᴏssᴇssɪᴠᴇ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀs ʜᴜᴍɪʟɪᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴅᴇɢʀᴀᴅᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴅᴜʙ-ᴄᴏɴ When she walks into the softly lit office, she's expecting a lecture, a pamphlet, maybe an awkward diagram or two. What she's not expecting, is him. Tall, infuriatingly self-assured and absolutely not the cardigan-wearing grandmother her husband assumed would "fix" her. She's here because her marriage is falling flat in the bedroom. Her husband thinks she's the problem. The man across the desk looks like he's about to prove him very, very wrong. ﹕ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ: koura ﹕ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀᴛɪᴇɴᴛ: luvia

 

[Koura]

╭──────────────╮ ˖๋ ࣭ ⭑ DAVID CHOI ˖๋ ࣭ ⭑ ╰──────────────╯ dr. strangelove | therapist ❝ 𝒰𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓁 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓊𝓃𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓈𝒸𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓈𝒸𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈, 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒹𝒾𝓇𝑒𝒸𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓁𝒾𝒻𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝒾𝓉 𝒻𝒶𝓉𝑒 ❞​

Frowning, David clicked open a file, the fan of his small laptop thrumming into life. Lian Wu. The medical records he accessed painted a picture of a seemingly normal and healthy young woman, referred to the clinic by her family physician at the request of her husband. Taking his time going through the documents, David could find no single reason why Lian would have needed his services. Marital troubles could literally mean anything. There was also the unexpected mention of 'frigidity', the vagueness of the term frustrating him to no end. Dr. Wang had not been as thorough as he should have, even if David could understand how discussing such things with Lian's husband might have been complicated, to say the least. Few men could talk openly about such issues. Those who could were rarely good men. He found himself wondering if Lian was too shy to communicate her needs or if her husband couldn't give the young woman what she truly craved. Chances were that Mr. Wu simply couldn't grasp that his wife had needs different from his. Men were often simple creatures. The Wu family physician, Dr. Wang, had left a note stating that Mr. Wu thought Lian had changed—how she had been such a lovely young woman when they first met, and how she had since grown distant. That particular comment caused David to scratch his chin, wondering if Lian's husband had omitted something or if Lian was cheating on her husband. That would have also explained the 'frigidity'. He could recall a case where a couple came to therapy, only to discover that they were both cheating on each other. It was no wonder that they hadn't had time for each other. Amusingly enough, the couple had agreed to stay together, though they had changed the rules of their marriage to accommodate shared needs they had discovered. Murmuring to himself, the young therapist closed the file, glancing upwards, lost in thought. He wondered whether Lian had been honest with her husband or if Mr. Wu simply didn't know how to connect with his wife. Lian's files had not mentioned how she had met her husband, nor the circumstances surrounding their marriage. While Lian's medical records seemed impeccable, David was left with a nagging feeling that something was wrong with Lian's marriage. He could not imagine why her husband would have insisted she see a therapist if she were simply unwilling to meet his needs. Usually, problems in a marriage rarely stemmed from only one person. The mind was a complex and intricate thing, intimately connected with the body. He knew he would have to discuss with Lian, hopefully winning her trust, and then delve deeper to figure out what troubled her. He had treated dozens of young women like her. David did not expect to be able to save her marriage. The fact that she was coming alone was telling. A tepid knock on the door woke David from the reverie, the young doctor leaning his weight against the table as he pushed himself up, brushing off imaginary dust from the gray vest he wore over his white shirt. Fiddling for a moment, the young doctor closed the laptop, tucking it into one of the drawers, out of the way. "Come on in," he called out, quickly adjusting his tie even as he turned to the door, conjuring a soft smile on his lips to greet his newest patient. "Please come in, Mrs. Wu. I have been waiting for you." As the young woman eventually stepped in, he bobbed a quick bow, offering her a nod, his eyes taking note of her complexion and posture, an old reflex he could not quite shake off. "David Choi. Please take a seat." He nodded at the worn leather divan that lay against the wall, his mahogany desk and large, well-cushioned chair sitting close by.​

 

[Luvia]

╭──────────────╮ ˖๋ ࣭ ⭑--LIAN-WU--˖๋ ࣭ ⭑ ╰──────────────╯ dr. strangelove | patient ❝ 𝒟ℴ𝓃'𝓉 𝓂𝒶𝓀ℯ 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝓂𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓀ℯ ℴ𝒻 𝒷ℯ𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓈ℴ 𝓊𝓃𝒹ℯ𝓇𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎ℴ𝓊 ℴ𝓋ℯ𝓇𝓁ℴℴ𝓀 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝒻𝒶𝒸𝓉 𝓎ℴ𝓊'𝓇ℯ 𝒷ℯ𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒹𝒾𝓈𝓇ℯ𝓈𝓅ℯ𝒸𝓉ℯ𝒹 ❞​

Some women got flowers when their husbands were unhappy. In Lian's case? She got sent to therapy. To a stranger with degrees. The only thing worse than this appointment was the fact that she was actually on time for it. The elevator hummed upward, each floor number blinking with deliberate slowness. Her fingers tightened on the leather strap of her handbag as she shifted from heel to heel, silently cursing them all—Jin, his manager, the entire Wu conglomerate. The appointment had been dropped into her calendar without discussion, just a text: Dr. Choi. Don't be late. The same tone someone might use to schedule a goddamn teeth cleaning. Dr. Choi. She pictured the type immediately: a matronly old woman in orthopedic shoes, cardigan slung over her shoulders, office smelling of mothballs and moral superiority. There'd be diagrams she didn't want to see, pamphlets she'd never read and phrases like 'reignite the flame' delivered without irony. Her husband had framed it as a favor to her, a corrective measure. His exact words had been, You should talk to someone about... this problem. This problem. The words still burned. He hadn't said our problem. Just hers. As though intimacy, in his mind, was a one-way street she had failed to maintain. And now she was here to be "fixed," like an appliance that didn't perform to spec. Her mind drifted to their wedding, red silk and gold thread, the air heavy with incense and expectation. Their smiles for the cameras had been carefully arranged, like the match itself. Her family's modest manufacturing company had been drowning; his empire in steel, shipping and property, had been the lifeline. The merger of their families was less about love than balance sheets. The ink had barely dried before she was installed in his penthouse, the perfect accessory for dinners and galas. In private, he treated her like a corporate obligation. Jin was efficient, detached and transactional. In bed, there was no tenderness, no curiosity, only expectation. She was there to meet his needs, and when she couldn't, or wouldn't, he looked at her like a faulty investment. She wasn't a partner; she was a problem to be outsourced. The elevator dinged. Screw this. She stepped into a hallway scented faintly of bergamot and paper, stopping before a brass plate that read only: Dr. Choi. No first name. No hint. Just another box to tick. Lian's pulse spiked. Her feet stalled. I don't want this. How much more humiliation was she supposed to swallow? But her father's voice came back, soft yet unyielding: Please, wǒ de nǚ'ér. Bear with this arrangement for three years. Only three, then you're free to divorce Jin. He'd refused to explain why, only that she must maintain the image of the renowned Jin Wu's perfect wife. No scandals. No trouble. Just smile and wave. That was one year ago. With a sigh and a small shake of her head, she knocked once. Her hand found the door handle but refused to turn it, as though crossing that threshold would make this ridiculous charade real. Then, she froze. "Come on in."​ That... was the voice of a man, not some esoteric ajumma. Her gaze went to the plate once more, making sure that she'd gotten the right door. And she did. The text never said if Dr. Choi was a man or a woman, but her in-laws were far too obsessed with propriety to risk sending her off to meet a man, let alone a sex therapist, and certainly not alone. Well. If anything, this one wasn't on her; she was simply following instructions, as per usual. The door swung open and she stepped inside, her hat pulled low and a pair of oversized designer sunglasses shielding most of her face. She tugged the glasses off with practiced grace, then stopped. Her breath caught. Fingers stilled mid-motion. Mercy. "Please come in, Mrs. Wu. I have been waiting for you."​ She swallowed, looking away as she slipped her sunglasses into her bag, but not before her brain had the full ten-tenths of a second to register that this doctor was inconveniently—devastatingly—handsome. Shit, calm down. His dark hair fell in just the right degree of disarray, framing sharp cheekbones and a mouth that looked like it could undo you with a single word. A pair of slender-rimmed glasses perched low on his nose, catching the light as he regarded her. Lian blinked, perhaps a second too late, realizing that he'd told her to sit. She cleared her throat, offering him a small nod before crossing to the divan and setting down her belongings. With her back to him, she slipped off her felt cloche and scarf, then her trench coat, letting them fall onto the cushion beside her. Her long chestnut hair tumbled free, spilling down her back, and with it came the faint trace of clean, refined florals wrapped in soft musk. Just get it over with. Let's make this quick. She turned around, dressed in a fitted cream silk blouse with a subtle sheen, tucked into a high-waisted pencil skirt in a deep charcoal. "I was told you were expecting me. A pleasure to meet you, Dr. Choi." A lie. The lie rolled off her tongue smoothly. Of course, it wasn't a pleasure. She'd rather be anywhere else—like, say, trapped in an elevator with a rabid Pomeranian. She sat down, regarding him with wariness yet curiosity. "So... how exactly does this work? Do I talk and you nod, or the other way around?" ​

 

[Koura]

╭──────────────╮ ˖๋ ࣭ ⭑ DAVID CHOI ˖๋ ࣭ ⭑ ╰──────────────╯ dr. strangelove | therapist ❝ 𝒰𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓁 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓊𝓃𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓈𝒸𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓈𝒸𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈, 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒹𝒾𝓇𝑒𝒸𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓁𝒾𝒻𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝒾𝓉 𝒻𝒶𝓉𝑒 ❞​

For once, someone was on time, David mused to himself. Few of his patients lived orderly lives despite the immense wealth some of them possessed. He found it inexplicably amusing that a thriving businesswoman might own enough real estate to house a football team and still forget where she was supposed to be at a given time. Perhaps Lian would prove to be an exception. Gently tilting his head to the side, David gauged the young woman as she stepped into his office. Taking a note of her posture, he allowed his eyes to trace her curves. He wondered if she had worn the sunglasses in hopes of hiding her identity. Lian wouldn't have been the first person to be ashamed of seeing a therapist. Especially as it seemed as if the whole thing wasn't even her idea. He could tell she felt reluctant. Perhaps her husband held some sort of leverage over her. It was leverage he would need to understand if he hoped to have any chance of helping her. Some things could not be simply forced. David reached to prod his glasses as if they were not already sitting perfectly on his nose. "Pleasure is equally mine," he replied, clearing his throat. He articulated his words carefully, his voice soft and mellow. Kindness and curiosity gleamed in his dark eyes as he looked at her. David had to admit his newest client was fetching; her features had caught his eye. She had most certainly piqued his interest. "I won't bite," he joked, noticing Lian's hesitation and trying to put her at ease. "I am here to help you." There was a slight issue with that particular statement. Chances were that Lian did not need help, at least not in the sense her husband thought. Making someone with Lian's charms feel wanted should not have been hard. He was hardly the only man who made his wife miserable. Having treated dozens of couples, David had developed a rather low opinion of wealthy men. As she settled onto the divan, Lian noticed two monochrome abstract paintings on the wall, each depicting a seemingly random arrangement of squares and rectangles traced with squiggly lines. A designer lamp dangled from the ceiling, bathing the room in warm light. A small vase brimming with plastic flowers stood by an antique clock on a small table by the divan. The wall behind David's desk was bare besides his framed diploma. His dark eyes followed the young woman as Lian sat down, David allowing her to get settled before speaking up again. "I am here for you, not for your husband," he assured Lian, sensing a weak spot he could perhaps exploit. It was clear that something had gone wrong with the marriage. David was more than happy to take Lian's side—if only to give himself an excuse to dig deeper. In order to help Lian, he needed to understand her. "Even if you might be here because of him." He spoke slowly, walking to take a seat on his desk. Informal. Lian seemed stressed, and he wanted to give her some time to gather her wits, or at least make her a little less nervous. "I know why your husband wanted you to come," David said, a soft sigh escaping his lips. It was perhaps a common misconception that psychiatrists cared only about what insurance companies thought. David tried to do better. There was a slight problem that Mr. Wu was paying for Lian's appointments. He was fairly certain Lian's husband expected results sooner rather than later. Something he could not promise or guarantee. "It's unfortunate he could not join you. I would prefer for both parties to be present." Judging by Dr. Wang's referral, that seemed extremely unlikely. A wayward curl drifted into view; his dexterous fingers found it and coaxed it behind his ear. Leaning over his desk, David pulled open a drawer, picking up a notebook and pen before turning back to Lian. "I think I'd rather hear your side of the story, if you won't mind?" he asked her, the room quiet but for the quiet hum of the ventilation. "Perhaps you could tell me why you think your husband wanted you to come here. Start from the beginning, if you would. How did you two meet? How is your relationship with him?" "Please take your time," David murmured. "We are not in a hurry."​

 

[Luvia]

╭──────────────╮ ˖๋ ࣭ ⭑--LIAN-WU--˖๋ ࣭ ⭑ ╰──────────────╯ dr. strangelove | patient ❝ 𝒟ℴ𝓃'𝓉 𝓂𝒶𝓀ℯ 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝓂𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓀ℯ ℴ𝒻 𝒷ℯ𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓈ℴ 𝓊𝓃𝒹ℯ𝓇𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎ℴ𝓊 ℴ𝓋ℯ𝓇𝓁ℴℴ𝓀 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝒻𝒶𝒸𝓉 𝓎ℴ𝓊'𝓇ℯ 𝒷ℯ𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒹𝒾𝓈𝓇ℯ𝓈𝓅ℯ𝒸𝓉ℯ𝒹 ❞​

God, his voice. Gentle, yet deep, with a timbre that curled through the air like warm honey. What the hell is wrong with you? Get it together. Despite the reprimand in her head, Lian's expression remained an unmoving mask of porcelain, one she had learned to wear early in life. 'Don't show how you feel. Don't let anybody know what you're thinking. And if you must, do it behind closed doors.' It was how she'd been brought up, where a single misstep could cost you, or your family, their good fortune. It wasn't often she found someone attractive, or rather, she'd never allowed herself the luxury of such sentiments. Yet here and now, her iron grip on that restraint was slipping, fast. Maybe it was the enclosed space. Maybe it was the fact that they were alone. Either way, it was... baffling. And annoying. "I am here for you, not for your husband. Even if you might be here because of him."​ She exhaled perhaps a shade too deeply. Ah. Right. She was utterly and completely unimpressed by his words, deeming it empty flattery. It wouldn't be the first time someone tried to ingratiate themselves, hoping her husband might notice, or fearing that he would. At first glance, Dr. Choi carried an amicable, almost disarming air, but trust was a currency she didn't spend lightly. In her world, no one had ever truly been on her side. Not her parents. Not her friends. Certainly not her husband. His I know why your husband wanted you to come was met with a single, clipped retort in her head. Do you? Her gaze stayed fixed on him, polite but cool, the silence stretching just long enough to make it clear she was deciding whether to bother at all. "I imagine whatever he told you is his interpretation." Her first genuine statement. She sat back, crossing one leg over the other, fingertips resting lightly on her knee as if she had all the time in the world. She shrugged, the motion almost elegant in its dismissal. "We met at a charity gala. Love at first sight." A faint, practiced smile touched her lips—one that didn't reach her eyes. "He was charming. I was... receptive. It made for a very good photograph." That was the line she'd given countless times before, to reporters, to acquaintances at dinner parties. Hell, even to the mirror when she needed to make sure it still sounded believable. It slid easily off her tongue now, but the words felt like a silk ribbon: smooth and polished, wound so tightly that tugging the wrong end might unravel everything she'd worked to keep in place. She'd perfected the art of talking about her marriage without saying anything at all. That skill had kept her out of trouble so far, and trouble was the one luxury she could not afford. Not with her parents counting on her silence, not with Jin's eyes always watching. Still, she was aware of him, this doctor with a gaze that lingered just long enough to make her wonder if he was actually listening, or if he was studying her the way one might study a lock they meant to pick. The thought unsettled Lian more than she cared to admit. She was not in the habit of noticing men, certainly not strangers, certainly not in this context—but here she was, catching herself cataloguing the sharp line of his jaw, the way he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose even though they hadn't moved at all. She blinked the thoughts away before they could take root. Attractive or not, he was here for a reason, and so was she. And neither reason had anything to do with what she wanted. "My husband would have loved to be here as well. Alas, duty calls. His work keeps him endlessly occupied." She pursed her lips, which had a lovely reddish sheen to them, wet with her favorite lip oil. "He sends his apologies. Too much work on his desk to make the trip here." Her gaze drifted to the pen in his hand, the way it rested between long fingers. She forced her eyes upward before he noticed. "The rest of our story," she continued, "is as you've no doubt read in every glossy magazine that's ever cared, if you're into business sections, that is." Silence pooled between them, heavy and patient. She could feel it pressing, urging her to fill it. Her mind circled the reason she'd been sent here like a cat stalking something it wasn't sure it wanted to catch. Saying it out loud was humiliating, especially to him. "I'm here because—," her grey eyes flicked up to meet his before skittering away. Her manicured hands found each other in her lap, fingers tightening like they were keeping the rest of her from falling apart. "Because... I'm unable to satisfy him in bed." There it was, ugly and graceless. An admission that was far too intimate for a man she'd only just met. It sat between them like a stone dropped into still water, sending ripples through a room she suddenly wished she could escape. If the floor had opened up at that moment, she might have stepped right through. I'd like to disappear right about now, yup.​

 

[Koura]

╭──────────────╮ ˖๋ ࣭ ⭑ DAVID CHOI ˖๋ ࣭ ⭑ ╰──────────────╯ dr. strangelove | therapist ❝ 𝒰𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓁 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓊𝓃𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓈𝒸𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓈𝒸𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈, 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒹𝒾𝓇𝑒𝒸𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓁𝒾𝒻𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝒾𝓉 𝒻𝒶𝓉𝑒 ❞​

Even if David had a degree in psychology, and while he thought he could understand the intricacies of psychology, he still sometimes struggled to fathom the choices his fellow humans made. He could understand the social pressures that shaped the lives of his clients to a degree. Shame was a potent motivator. Humans were social animals, and ostracism often hurt worse than any physical injury imaginable. There was a reason everyone longed to belong to their own in-group. No one wished to be seen as deviant, and so they followed norms that only caused more harm in the long term. "He didn't tell me anything," David replied, smiling softly. "Dr. Wang wrote the referral." There was a short pause. "At the behest of your husband, as you know." He tapped the notebook with his pen, taking his time. He did not want to overwhelm his patient. "Your husband thinks you've changed." A soft smile lingered on his lips, the young doctor softly clicking his pen, scribbling something down. "That you used to be more passionate." Tilting his head to the side, he ran his fingers through his curls. "As things tend to be early on." "Now, I don't read tabloids," he admitted, offering Lian a sheepish smile. "That said, I've heard of your husband." David nodded, glancing up for a moment. "His name tends to pop up, doesn't it?" Lian's marriage was not the only thing that had found its way into the tabloids. With Mr. Wu running a conglomerate valued in the billions and employing thousands of people, the media paid attention to what Jin Wu had to say. The fact that some of Jin's statements were unhinged ensured that he had the media's full attention. David frowned as Lian passed her husband's regards to him. He could tell she was repeating his lies. That she was used to doing so. Lian was playing the role of a perfect trophy wife, speaking empty words with accustomed ease. "Please tell him that it would help you both if he could attend the next time." They both knew it was an empty platitude. There was no way a man like Jin Wu would drag himself to David's office every week at the same time. "I can only imagine how it is to live with such a person." David sighed, his voice warm and disarming. He knew how to talk to people, his compassion genuine. Like any good therapist, he cared deeply for his clients while still maintaining a slight emotional distance. It was tough to help a person one did not care for. "It's sad he could not make the time. Some things would work far more easily if he were present." Determining the exact problem was much harder when the person making the complaints wasn't present to clarify, leaving gaps that could only be filled with guesswork. "But we'll do our best." "I take it he's not around much—if at all?" he asked, writing something down on his notepad. Instead of taking notes, David was actually doodling a cat. Lian hadn't told him anything he didn't already know. David was playing the role of a diligent therapist to put his client at ease. He was weaving an illusion of sorts. "I can see how that would be rough. Marriage is supposed to be a union, at least on paper." His voice was laced with compassion. David tried to be there for his clients. To sympathize with them and make them feel heard. Some people simply needed a little faith in them. Someone who believed in them. "You are brave, Mrs. Lian," he praised her, licking his lips. "It can't have been easy to say that. Even if you know you were expected to. You did well," David told Lian, hoping to encourage her to open up further. "That must feel jarring. To hear such words from one's husband," David murmured, leaning closer, a faint scent of his cologne washing over Lian. Notes of musk, sandalwood, and bergamot assailed her senses. "Could you tell me why that is?" Allowing his client a moment of respite, David lifted his pen, tapping it against his cheek. "Though, perhaps you should tell me about your sex life first." David cleared his throat, talking about sex as if he were discussing the weather. "How do you feel about it? How do you think your husband feels about it?" He glanced at Lian, a few of his loose bangs dangling before his eyes. David was the kind of person who struggled to keep his hair in order. "Do you enjoy sex with your husband? Please be honest with me, Mrs. Wu." Expecting another polite lie, he tried to encourage his client to speak her mind. "I won't judge you, and trust me, I have heard it all." She could hear him chuckle softly. "I would want to know how it is for you. I know it can be awfully hard to connect with someone if you don't feel wanted or appreciated." David offered Lian a faint smile, motes of curiosity gleaming in his eyes as he propped up his glasses once more. "And finally, could you tell me about your sex life with yourself?"​

 

[Luvia]

╭──────────────╮ ˖๋ ࣭ ⭑--LIAN-WU--˖๋ ࣭ ⭑ ╰──────────────╯ dr. strangelove | patient ❝ 𝒟ℴ𝓃'𝓉 𝓂𝒶𝓀ℯ 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝓂𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓀ℯ ℴ𝒻 𝒷ℯ𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓈ℴ 𝓊𝓃𝒹ℯ𝓇𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎ℴ𝓊 ℴ𝓋ℯ𝓇𝓁ℴℴ𝓀 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝒻𝒶𝒸𝓉 𝓎ℴ𝓊'𝓇ℯ 𝒷ℯ𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒹𝒾𝓈𝓇ℯ𝓈𝓅ℯ𝒸𝓉ℯ𝒹 ❞​

What a pompous, self-satisfied man. Lian's brows twitched, almost pulling into a frown before she caught herself. His questions lingered in the room—light on the surface, but carrying a weight she could feel. Stay cool. She was not here of her own accord and her thoughts reflected that. Dr. Choi spoke with compassion, yet it only stirred a quiet disdain in her chest. Arrogant, presumptuous bastard. How could somebody like him possibly fathom what it could feel like to be somebody like her? To play the part of a loving wife to a man she barely knew, even after a year of marriage? To bare herself before someone who might not even see her as a person, but as something to be used? He looked the type to mean it when he said, I won't judge you. She wasn't naïve enough to believe anyone truly left their judgments at the door, however. Not even a therapist. She'd been measured and assessed all her life; her clothes, her smile, her choice of wine, her weight. Men always judged, even the kind ones. Hell, maybe especially the kind ones. "You are brave, Mrs. Lian."​ There was that warmth in his voice again, the kind that seemed to stretch a bridge between them without her consent. Lian? She'd noticed the small shift, too—how at the start, she'd been "Mrs. Wu," yet somewhere between the questions and the gentle praise, she had become "Mrs. Lian." It was subtle, deliberate perhaps, or maybe unconscious. Either way, she clocked it. Names mattered. So did changes like that. "Oh?" Her gaze slipped to the loose strands of hair that kept falling into his eyes. Her lips pressed together. Fuck. Stop it. Stop. He was still a stranger, and she didn't like the fact that she had already noticed more about him than she'd ever intended to. Lian shifted slightly in her seat, crossing her legs more firmly together, as if the motion could shield her. Her fingers found the hem of her skirt, smoothing a spot that didn't need smoothing. Despite her sweet, fragile appearance, she was usually quite quick-witted and articulate. This doctor, however, was lobbing question after uncomfortable question, rendering her clever tongue useless for the moment. If she were to entertain this charade, where should she start? Perhaps with the truth—that she had never really 'changed', only that she had lost the strength to pretend. That their bedroom affairs had never been passionate, and that she had always faked her orgasms. It was true that Jin had changed. In the early days, he had at least attempted to find her clit, though he always ended up rubbing her labia instead. After telling him he was doing it wrong one too many times, he'd stopped trying altogether. His next question echoed inside her head in an almost dizzying manner. Do you enjoy sex with your husband? "No." Her heartbeat quickened. Her eyes flicked to his briefly, testing for a shadow of judgment, before returning to the safety of the floor. No. The word felt stark, bare and much too loud in the quiet of the room. She wasn't used to saying it aloud. The truth had always been something she kept tucked behind her teeth. "I never have," she finally admitted, the words dragging on her tongue. The polished tips of her shoes were suddenly far more interesting than the man across from her. "Not once." It wasn't anger in her voice, nor sorrow. Just a flat honesty, stripped of embellishment. Still, her cheeks warmed. Saying it made it real in a way that thinking it never had. She'd never confided in anyone like this, not even her supposed friends. What am I doing? Lian smoothed her skirt again, fingertips tracing over fabric that already lay perfectly flat. "For him, it's always been... quick. Functional. Like checking something off a list, I suppose." A faint, bitter huff of air passed her lips. "And for me, well," one hand gestured toward herself, "eventually, pretending was less scary than explaining." Until, in time, even that had stopped. Nowadays, he would sometimes come up behind her, mouth grazing her neck, hands pawing at her chest as if ticking through the same worn-out motions. Then he'd try to fuck her, something that had become impossible. She didn't get wet, didn't reciprocate, didn't respond at all. She was past pretending. Past caring. God, I'm so tired. Tired of him. Tired of the performance. Tired of being reduced to a warm body and nothing more. Her thoughts were still caught there when his next question landed. "And what about your sex life with yourself?"​ The air felt heavier. She blinked at him, almost convinced she'd misheard. "I..." Her lips parted, then pressed together again. It was absurd, really, that she could talk about her marriage in such blunt terms and still balk at this. After a beat, she gave a small, mirthless smile. "There isn't one." Her eyes drifted past him, to a place on the empty wall just beyond his shoulder. "I don't—" Lian exhaled sharply, searching for words she didn't want to say. "It's been a while. I've forgotten what that even feels like." People like her didn't use toys, didn't resort to watching porn. Just bitter disappointment, until there was nothing left of her sex drive at all. The admission sat between them, more vulnerable than anything that had come before. She smoothed her skirt again, as if neatening the fabric might also gather back a little dignity. Then, almost idly, her gaze lifted back to his. Slowly, she leaned forward, the movement small but intentional, until her elbows rested lightly on her knees. "So tell me, Doctor Choi." Her voice was soft, conversational, though a flicker of something sly passed through her eyes. "Do you ask all your patients that?" She paused, letting it linger, just long enough to make him feel it. "...or just the ones you think about after they leave?" She eased back into her seat again, her expression polite, as though she hadn't just placed a challenge neatly wrapped in his lap.

 

[Koura]

╭──────────────╮ ˖๋ ࣭ ⭑ DAVID CHOI ˖๋ ࣭ ⭑ ╰──────────────╯ dr. strangelove | therapist ❝ 𝒰𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓁 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓊𝓃𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓈𝒸𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓈𝒸𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈, 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒹𝒾𝓇𝑒𝒸𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓁𝒾𝒻𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝒾𝓉 𝒻𝒶𝓉𝑒 ❞​

An eyebrow rose as Lian crossed her legs, David leaning back as if to give her space. Pressing his pen on his notebook, David drew three lines, conjuring up whiskers for the cat he had been doodling. He could understand why the poor woman would be reserved. She had to put her thoughts into words. Thoughts she likely resented or at least didn't want to face. Even if she was comfortable with how she saw her husband and his relationship, admitting her feelings had to be difficult. After all, David was a stranger. Even if he tried to make Lian feel cared for, there was only so much someone she had met a few minutes ago could do. Trust took time. "That's unfortunate," David murmured, sounding almost apologetic as he drew three more lines on the paper. His doodle was almost complete. "Never?" The young therapist sounded a little surprised. "That's sad," he added, licking his lips as he looked up, his eyes catching Lian's for a moment. "It's not what marriage should be." There was a quiet moment, David making a point to see if his words would sink in. "I think you know that," David told her, nodding sadly. "But sometimes we don't get to choose our circumstances." Many of his clients had stumbled into marriage without putting any thought into what the vows meant. Some considered their marriage nothing but a sham—a social rite everyone was expected to pass. "So you tried to make him understand?" David asked, scribbling down 'dumbass' just below the cat he had scrawled. He mused that it was his clinical assessment of Mr. Wu. "And once it became evident that he wasn't willing to listen, you gave up?" His voice remained warm as it was mellow, David speaking a little bit more slowly than most people might have. "That has to feel appalling. And perhaps safe, as you said. Conflicts can be so very terrifying. Especially with your spouse." Conflicts were unavoidable in any given long-term relationship. Such was human nature. "It's very human to avoid conflicts." Lian was hardly the first woman to disregard her needs to maintain peace in the house. "Humans are not clockwork machines. You can't just turn a key and expect someone to perform." David explained, tapping his long fingers against his notebook. "Not like that, at least. But I suppose you know that. It's no wonder you struggle," he mused, slowly turning the pen in his fingers. "How about your earlier relationships? Have you ever had a lover you enjoyed? Or were you a virgin when you met your husband?" She could hear the curiosity in his voice, though whether his interest in her was professional or personal was hidden beneath his well-practiced manners and his polite smile. Yet something gleamed in his achingly beautiful eyes. "I see," David murmured, his voice perfectly neutral. There wasn't a wrong answer to that particular question. "Is that because you've never felt the need to masturbate, or because the current situation has affected your sex drive?" He tried to place his words carefully, trying to reassure Lian that her reaction to her circumstances was perfectly normal. "Some people never masturbate, and that's perfectly normal." David offered her a reassuring smile, using his pen to draw an imaginary curve between them. "There's no such thing as normal when it comes to sex and sexuality. What humans do, and what humans find appealing, is a wide spectrum." He moved the pen from one end of the invisible curve to the other. "It just seems that your husband doesn't understand your needs." A pregnant pause followed, David clicking his pen. "Or care for them." He didn't want to judge Mr Wu outright, clear-cut as the situation appeared. "I do." There was no hesitation in David's voice, the young therapist turning his notebook facedown on his lap. "You could be asexual. I assume you know what the term means." He had learnt not to expect anything. David remembered discussing with a middle-aged executive who wasn't sure if she had ever experienced an orgasm. Humans truly were like sunsets—none quite like the other. "There's nothing shameful about masturbation. Just as there's no shame in never bothering with it." David kept his voice gentle, tilting his head as he met Lian's gaze, puffing lightly to send a stray curl back where it belonged. Her question caught him off guard, and David blinked, momentarily unsure how to respond. Pressing his lips together, he leaned slightly closer. "See, I think of everyone after they leave." His dark eyes flickered with a hint of mischief, his scent clinging to Lian once more. He had the perfect riposte for her. "I do need to organize my notes. Plan the next session." He patted the notebook sitting on his lap. "A better question is, what did you mean when you asked if I think of my patients, Mrs Wu?" David had an inkling of what Lian might have meant. Now that she had slipped something, he wanted to learn more about her thoughts. To better understand her. "What did you have on your mind." Having deflected Lian's question, he offered her a challenge of his own, the same soft smile still on his lips. "Could you please enlighten me?" he invited Lian to speak her mind, leaning a little closer as she withdrew.​