Victor walked briskly down the corridor, his mind focused on one thing—convincing Elena's father to reconsider his decision. As he approached the reception area, he saw Elena's father speaking with the receptionist, signing papers.

"Excuse me," Victor said, his voice firm yet polite, drawing the man's attention.

Elena's father turned to face him, his expression neutral. "Yes?"

"I'm Dr. Victor," he introduced himself. "Elena's doctor for this case."

Elena's father nodded slightly, his demeanor unreadable.

"Can I ask why you’re refusing her therapy?" Victor asked directly, his tone professional but carrying a hint of urgency.

"Because she doesn’t need it," the man replied curtly.

Victor took a deep breath, steadying his frustration. "I don’t want to be rude, but if there’s no valid reason to refuse, you should allow her to take the therapy. Cases like this can get complicated over time if not addressed properly."

Elena’s father’s expression hardened. "It’s not her first time," he said shortly, turning back to the receptionist.

Victor blinked, the weight of those words sinking in. "If that’s the case," he said, his voice gentler now, "it’s even more important for her to receive help."

"We don’t want it," her father replied sharply. "I don’t want to risk therapy triggering her even more instead of helping her heal."

Victor stepped closer, his voice steady but imploring. "Therapy doesn’t trigger—it provides tools to process and heal. I assure you, the goal is to help her regain control over her life."

But her father shook his head firmly. "She’s fine. And I’m taking her home. Once she’s home, surrounded by her family, she’ll recover faster."

"But—" Victor began, trying once more to reason with him.

"No," Elena’s father interrupted, his tone final. Without another word, he walked away, leaving Victor standing there, helplessly watching as he headed toward Elena’s room.

---

Back in his office, Victor paced near the window, frustration simmering beneath his calm exterior. His gaze fell to the parking lot below, where he spotted Elena’s father helping her into the car. She looked pale, her movements hesitant as if every step drained her.

Victor leaned against the window, watching as the car doors shut. "It would be selfish of me," he murmured to himself, "but I wish you’d come back  Elena."