My jaw tightens. “
My family’s been reaching out.”
Her expression softens slightly. “How does that feel?”
“Like a trap,” I answer immediately.
She tilts her head. “Explain.”
“They keep texting,” I say. “Calling. Leaving voicemails.”
“And?”
“They deadname me every single time,” The word spill bitter from my mouth.
“If they’re still looking for Zaire,” I said with a steady tone filled with tension, “then there’s no reason for me to respond. That person doesn’t exist anymore.”
Dr. Manning nods slowly.
“I assume every message feels like erasure?”
“Yes.”
“Do they acknowledge you at all? Or only the name they want?”
“Only the name they want.”
I laugh quietly, but there’s no humor in it. “It’s wild how somebody can say they miss you while refusing to see you.”
Dr. Manning allows me to finish my thought before asking, “What do you think they want?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “Closure? Access? To feel less guilty? Or maybe they just finally ran out of pride.”
“And what do you want?”
That’s the harder question. “I don’t know,” I admit.
She watches me carefully. “Do you really want to know what they want?” she asks gently. “Or do you truly want to be left alone?”
I stare at the floor. I’ve built a whole life without them. A chosen family. A woman who loved me openly. A man who loves me without shame.
“I want peace,” I whisper.
“Peace can come in two forms,” she says. “Distance… or clarity.”
I swallow. “I’m scared if I answer, they’ll disappoint me again.”
“That’s a real possibility,” she says calmly.
“And I don’t think I can handle another rejection.”
Dr. Manning leans forward slightly. “What would answering them cost you?”
“Hope.”
“And what would ignoring them cost you?”
I pause.
