Lili & Casey
“I still haven’t told Casey I’ve been coming here.”
Across from her, Alexander sits back, hands resting in his lap. “Yes, you mentioned keeping our sessions private. What’s holding you back?”
“I’m afraid,” she says, almost wincing, like the admission stings. “Afraid he’ll see it as a betrayal.”
He studies her for a moment longer, watching her with that same clinical gaze. “Or maybe he’s afraid you’ll uncover something he’s hiding.”
Lili glances upward, her attention snagging on a cobweb drifting in the vent’s breeze. “Sometimes,” she says quietly, “I wonder if I ever really knew him.”
“Like he deceived you?”
“Not exactly. More like… did I deceive myself? I was so focused on checking off boxes, what made him the perfect husband on paper, that I never really saw him. Not as a person. Just husband material. And now I wonder if he was always playing into that fantasy. To avoid disappointing me… or worse, to manipulate me. But I followed the script of what I thought I wanted and never stopped to question any of it.”
“You’re taking responsibility for a lot. But what about Casey? You’re not responsible for the man he is. And if he’s manipulating you, that isn’t your fault.”
Lili swallows, her hands tightening around the edge of the leather chair. “I just… sometimes I feel guilty. He always says he never wanted kids anyway. But that doesn’t mean I don’t still wonder if I’ve let him down.”
“Have you tried asking him?”
She looks down, voice barely audible. “Ever since the miscarriage… and finding out I can’t carry… no. We never talk about it. Just shove it under the rug with everything else. The cancer he pretends never happened. The affair I overlook every single day.”
Alexander studies her, choosing his words. “We have work to do, Lili. Real work. It won’t be quick. It could take years.”
“Years? Really?”
“In the spirit of committing to that work, I’d like to invite Casey to join us.”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Lili recoils, as if the idea itself is a violation. “Absolutely not. He’d never agree. And honestly, I don’t want to give him that space. Not after everything.”
“This isn’t about giving him space. It’s about taking yours back. You’re doing the work. You’re asking hard questions. Doesn’t he owe it to the marriage to show up for one hour? If he refuses that, if he can’t sit across from you and face what’s real, then you’ll have your answer.”
“So, it’s like a test?” Lili asks, not sure she wants to know what the outcome would be.
“Don’t give up clarity just to preserve comfort. Invite him in. See what he does with it.”
She doesn’t speak at first. Just nods once, like she’s giving herself permission to try. “Alright. I’ll ask him.”
She’d rehearsed this all day, smoothing the words until they almost sounded casual. But now, sitting across from Casey at the dinner table, the air is too still. He’s watching her. Waiting. Just tell him already.
“I think we should try couples therapy,” she says, her voice gentler than her expression.
Casey lets out a quiet breath, half a scoff. “Really? Don’t you think that’s kind of a lot? Beyond the time commitment, you have to find someone good. And honestly, that’s harder than the therapy part.”
“Well, luckily, I already found someone.” She sets her fork down. Looks at him. “I’ve been meaning to tell you. I’m seeing him.”
Whatever he was about to say, he swallows it. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait.”
“Just a few sessions.”
“Seriously? You’re seeing a shrink?” He sits up, as if bracing for impact. “You think we need couples therapy? It’s always struck me as… adversarial. Like stepping into the ring for some self-important PhD’s entertainment.”
“He’s Sandra Bullock’s therapist, among others. If he’s good enough for a movie star—”
Casey freezes, eyes narrowing as it crystallizes. “Wait. The celebrity shrink? Alexander Beacham? Our fucking neighbor?”
“Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything before.”
He pushes his plate aside. “No. That guy’s dangerous, Lili. He shouldn’t even be practicing.”
“You don’t even know him.”
“I’ve heard things,” he says. “He crosses lines. He advised Johnny Depp during the Amber Heard mess. Gareth told me.”
“Gareth’s the one who recommended him to me.” She leans forward, letting the edge of irritation cut through her calm. “And if he’s such a problem, then why didn’t you say anything sooner?”
“Because I didn’t know you were seeing him! That’s the problem. You hid that from me.”
“Because you wouldn’t understand, clearly.”
“You’re right, I don’t. Why is this so important to you? Am I not enough?”
“Gee, Casey, I wonder why we might need therapy. Enlighten me.”
“I see. It’s about that.” His voice levels out, distant now, like he’s putting up a wall. “You still don’t trust me.”
“I wish I did.”
“Thanks for the honesty, I guess.”
Lili looks at him like she’s already said this in her head a hundred times, and now it’s costing her to say it out loud. “That’s why I want to do this. For us.”
Casey holds her stare, searching. Inside, his mind races. Agreeing to therapy with Alexander? Insane. But saying no? That raises more alarms. Gives Alexander more time. More influence. If Casey’s in the room, he can listen. Watch the angles. Figure out what this guy is really doing—and stop it.
“I’ll think about it,” he says, taking a deep breath.