Wednesday rounded the corner, immediately spotting his bright, multi-coloured windbreaker. He stood by the gate beside the park, stretching his hamstrings. A black beanie was on his head, one or two curls poking out from under it. He wore a simple pair of black shorts and black running shoes, his white socks pulled up.

As she approached, geared up herself in blue leggings with a matching top and a hoodie wrapped around her waist, Harry spotted her. Shooting her a wide smile, he stretched his arms.

"You ready for this?" he said as she came to stand before him.

"Not really."

Her eyes scanned the surrounding street. It was eerily silent. There was barely a car to be seen, let alone anyone around and she wondered whether she'd ever seen London this quiet. In fact, she wondered if she'd ever even been up and out this early in the city. Looking down to her watch, she saw that it was just reaching half 6 in the morning.

The air was bitingly cold, but it was refreshing. When her alarm had gone off a mere 20 minutes before, she'd snuggled down further into her bed, considering texting Harry to fob off the run. But stood there now, hearing the birds chirp and the trees sway, the sky barely light, she was happy she'd come along.

"You'll be fine. We'll go slow and build it up," Harry assured her.

This was her first run in almost two months, and she was dreading it. The longer she'd gone without running, the more intimidated she'd gotten at the thought of starting again. Maybe it was concern about not performing as well as normal. Or just the fear of actually diving back into it. When Harry had offered the day before to go for a run with her, so that she could ease back into it, she'd forced herself to say yes. At least if she had someone there alongside her, it would give her motivation to keep going.

She did her stretches, jumping lightly on the spot to warm up. Then, once they'd both set their timers on their watches, there was nothing left to do but start.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Ready," she replied, nodding as confidently as she could.

They set off, running side by side. And true to his word, he kept it slow, at a pace much easier for herself. She knew he was limiting himself massively – in previous runs they'd been on together, she'd barely managed to run at his usual pace. He was so athletically strong sometimes that she forgot, and it made her smile knowing he was doing it purely for her.

She followed him on the route they had planned, around and through Hampstead Heath all the way to Primrose Hill. They ran through the heath, past the ponds. Wednesday squinted her eyes to watch the ducks float on the water, smiling at the squirrels sat on the water's edge.

Occasionally he would ask how she was doing, and though her chest felt a bit tighter and her legs a bit weaker, she was actually okay. In fact, she was enjoying herself. It felt nice, to not be able to focus on anything other than placing one foot in front of the other and breathing in and out. At one point, about halfway through the run, she asked him to up the pace, ready to push herself.

Half an hour later, they arrived at the foot of Primrose Hill, right on time. All that was left was the ascent to the top, and with a devilish grin, Harry turned to her.

"Race to the top?"

She smiled. "You're on."

They both set off fast, running as quickly as they could up the steep path. Harry managed to get the lead, keeping in front of her. His breathy laugh caused her to giggle as they both panted and struggled up the incline. Wednesday caught up, grabbing his arm to slow him down, but he kept running against her pull. She laughed even harder, using his arm as leverage for herself. As he slowed down for a second, she saw her chance, pushing him back and sprinting the last few steps to the top viewing area.

Turning around, she lifted in her arms in victory, catching her breath with a large smile. Harry walked to the top a second later, bending over and catching his own breath with a grin. Zipping open his bag, he took out his blue inhaler, pressing the cannister and breathing in the medicine.

"You win."

Wednesday wiped the sweat from her forehead, holding the slight stitch in her side. She patted Harry's back as he caught his breath, rubbing comfortingly.

"We made it," she said, observing the sky.

From their position, the whole London skyline could be seen. Various shapes and sizes of tall buildings were situated against a backdrop of rich sunrise colours. The sun, low and just rising, was a deep orange, almost red. A mix of yellows, pinks and oranges painted the sky in fantastic colour, swirling and weaving through the fluffy morning clouds. Over the park below, white winter mist finished the scene. It looked ethereal.

This was the real prize for Wednesday.

Sitting down on one of the benches, Wednesday and Harry admired the view in silence. Distant noises of traffic and construction work filtered to where they sat. The city was waking up. But for them, it felt like they'd already been up for hours.

"Can you believe this is all on our doorstep?" Wednesday asked, watching one of the planes flying over the buildings, leaving a white cloud trail in its wake.

"No. Sometimes, when it's rainy and miserable, I forget how much I love London. And then I see something like this..." Harry trailed off. Wednesday looked over to him, waiting for him to continue. His cheeks were still red from the run, his breathes coming out in white vapor. She smiled when he wiggled his nose. "It reminds me that I'm glad this is the place I call home."

He looked back to her after speaking, catching her staring at him. He sniffed, rubbing his nose with a suddenly shy grin.

"What?"

Wednesday shook her head, pursing her lips. "Nothing. You just..." she said, unable to stop herself from smiling. "You look 18 all over again when your nose and cheeks are all red."

He laughed nervously, the colour in his cheeks deepening. He rubbed his nose again.

"I might look 18, but I definitely don't feel it. My back ache has me feeling like a 78-year-old."

Wednesday rolled her eyes.

"Well, maybe if you sorted out your posture, like everyone tells you to."

"Don't you start. I already get called Quasimodo off of the fans every day online for it."

She laughed out loud at that, deep from her stomach. Partly because there was some scrap of truth in that comparison and partly because he genuinely sounded so annoyed by it.

"Well, if you're Quasimodo, what does that make me? One of the gargoyles?"

He smiled at her, before looking out at the park.

"No. You're Esmeralda."

She squinted her eyes at him, taking in his words. It was true that they did both have dark hair and a love for hoop earrings, but somehow, she didn't think that was the reason for his comparison. Rubbing her arms, she looked back to the sky.

They sat quietly, Wednesday feeling the cold starting to invade her limbs as she cooled down. Taking the hoodie from around her waist, she placed her arms into either side, zipping it fully up. Her legs began to bounce, her teeth chattering.

"Today will be okay, you know," Harry said beside her.

She looked at him, seeing his reassuring expression. Breathing out a sigh, she nodded.

"I know. I just can't help being nervous for it though."

"That's normal. Just breathe your way through it."

Her hands fiddled in her pockets, picking at the skin on her thumbs with her middle fingers. Clearing her throat, she got up, turning back down to where he sat.

"Come on then, let's start heading back. I don't wanna be late."

He agreed, getting up and readjusting his beanie, before they slowly started the descent back down to the bottom of the hill.

A few hours later, after she'd eaten and showered, Wednesday found herself sat once again in the familiar green waiting room. She could feel her anxiety creeping through her body, like a chill that was spreading. But she remembered what Harry had said.

Breathe.

And so, she did. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.

She found things in the room to focus on, details she'd missed on her previous visit. The receptionist's hair was placed into a low ponytail, a middle parting at the front. It was the colour of fire opal, a beautifully brilliant orange that Wednesday wished she could pull off too. The vases around the room had changed the contents too, from peonies to tulips – her favourite. White, pink, purple. Every single colour available was there. 3 art prints hung on the wall, minimalistic in both style and colour. Fern leaves adorned each one, slightly different in composition. They were painted in shades of muted green, with gold outlines over the top.

Wednesday was so engrossed in staring at them, that she didn't hear her name being called.

"Wednesday Green," someone repeated, and she quickly looked to the doorway, seeing Sade smiling down at her.

Grabbing her items, she stood up, following her down the hallway and into her room, an intense feeling of déjà vu spreading through her.

"It's nice to see you again Wednesday," Sade said, smiling in that same calm manner.

Wednesday sat down on the sofa, placing her items by her side and pushing her hair from her face. She forced a nervy smile, clasping her hands together.

"You too."

"How are you feeling today?"

Wednesday bit the inside of her cheek, feeling slightly like a child that had just cooled down from a tantrum.

"Embarrassed."

Sade's eyebrows pulled together, her head tilting to the side.

"Why embarrassed?"

"Because of how the last session ended. With me...running away."

Sade smiled knowingly, crossing her legs.

"Wednesday, it's not uncommon for people to struggle on their first session. In fact, you'd be surprised at the amount of people who feel overwhelmed and leave early on their first try. But the important thing is, you came back. And that tells me that you want to give it another go, which is all I can ever ask of you. Therapy needs to be your choice, no-one else's. Okay?"

Wednesday smiled, making sure to keep her breathing calm. "Okay."

"We'll begin by easing back into where we were last week. Now, I have the notes of where we came to, but if you feel the need to slow down at any point, please tell me and I will. Remember, this is a teamwork."

She nodded, smoothing her clammy hands down her jean covered thighs.

"So last week, we discussed how you were struggling after the loss of your dad and nanna, as well as some other big life changes. And how you find it difficult to open up about those struggles to the people around you. You mentioned how it leaves you feeling vulnerable, which scares you."

Wednesday bit her lip nervously, nodding along with everything she was saying.

Breathe.

"So, last week, we were working our way down to why being vulnerable scares you. And you did actually say why you find it scary, didn't you?"

She nodded, remembering the conversation the week prior. "Because I'm scared that once I let someone in, they'll...they'll leave."

"And what would be the worst part about someone leaving you Wednesday?"

"The pain," she answered quietly, looking down to her hands limply placed on her lap.

"The same type of pain you felt when you lost your dad? And your nanna?"

Wednesday nodded, feeling her throat constrict. Her emotions were already heightened, her heart thumping fast.

"Last week, you left when I asked you what you would think about yourself if someone left you. What was it about that question that made you need to leave?"

Wednesday felt it coming, the panic. She looked around the room, avoiding Sade's gaze. But then she heard it. Harry's voice.

Just breathe.

She inhaled deeply, exhaling slowly.

"The answer that came into my head...the first thing I thought when you asked me," Wednesday began, hearing her own shaky voice. "It scared me. Because it...it felt like I found something out about myself that I tried so hard not to."

Sade smiled gently, looking straight at Wednesday. Quietly, she spoke again.

"Wednesday, I'm going to ask you the same question I asked last week, okay? And I want you to breathe through your emotions and answer when you're ready. This is a safe space, remember."

She looked up, feeling the trembling of her hands and the sudden glossiness in her eyes.

"Okay."

"If the people around you; your friends, family or a romantic partner – the people you love. If they were to leave you, how would that make you feel?"

Breathe. In and out. In and out. Her lip quivered and her eyes were now so glossy that she couldn't see clearly. She looked down to her lap, her hands picking at the skin around her nails viciously. But not even the pain of that could distract her. With a shaky breath, she opened her mouth.

"That I'm unlovable. And...and worthless."

"Do you think that about yourself Wednesday, that you are unlovable and worthless?"

"I...I don't know."

The tears she'd been holding onto for so long spilled out, crashing down her cheeks. She sniffed, her nose stuffy. Her breathing began to quicken as she felt the onslaught of tears, thick and heavy. She tried to hold in her choked sobs, but it was no use – it just made her feel even worse. Her head was spinning, her vision blurred. Not even the presence of Sade, sat watching her calmly, could stop the overflow of pain now spilling out of her. The dam she'd built up so high inside of herself to keep the emotions from flooding over had now cracked and fallen, with years upon years of hurt, misery and bottled-up feelings now forcing their way through.

"Sorry," she said between sobs, her racked breathes the only sound filling the air.

She tried to calm herself down, but it only worked to make her even more emotional. The tears didn't stop. Everything she'd meticulously kept bottled up throughout her entire existence was now forcing its way out, leaving her too weak to fight it. She couldn't look up, too scared to look at Sade when she was like this. It was the last scrap of dignity she was holding onto.

Through her watery eyes, she noticed Sade pushing the tissue box towards her. Gratefully, she took two out, dabbing at her wet face and runny nose.

"Don't apologise for showing emotion Wednesday. It looks like you've been holding onto this for a long time."

She nodded, her chest still rising and falling in rapid succession. For the next few minutes, she continued to cry in the silent room, never once feeling rushed or judged by the woman in front of her.

When her sobs had eventually stopped and the tears had started to dry up, Wednesday looked up. Running the tissue under her eye, she forced out a small laugh.

"I didn't realise how much I needed that."

"Our emotions always find a way of getting out. Repressed emotions especially tend to have great physical impacts, as well as mental. Do you often get headaches or stomach pain?" Sade asked.

A better question would have been, when didn't she? She thought over the last year. It had been almost commonplace for her to get a headache every day, or some type of clenching in her stomach.

"Yeah. I do, actually."

Sade nodded knowingly. "When we don't let them out, they find alternative ways of making themselves known."

She opened her notepad back up, grabbing her pen. Wednesday felt the aftermath of her breakdown. Her eyes felt swollen and her nose stuffy. Her cheeks felt dry under the abundance of tears that had ran over them. She didn't even want to think about how bad her makeup looked right now.

"We're going to go back now, to where we were before. Okay?" she asked, smiling gently.

Wednesday sniffed, nodding. "Okay."

"So, you've said that you don't know if you believe you're unlovable. Why are you unsure?"

She felt her lip wobble again but remained composed. Breathe.

"Because...because I know there are people who love me. My friends and family. And my ex-boyfriend...despite everything that's happened, I know he loved me too at one point. Surely if I thought I was unlovable, I wouldn't be getting into relationships for the fear of getting hurt?"

Sade's face softened as she stared at Wednesday.

"If you don't mind me asking, what was your previous relationship like? Was it your only relationship?"

Wednesday sniffled, confused by the sudden change of conversation, but answering regardless. "It was my only proper relationship, yeah. The boys before had just been sort of casual. They didn't really last longer than a few months. But with Patrick, we were together nearly two years. And it was nice, for the most part. It just ended badly."

"What do you mean by 'nice for the most part', Wednesday?" Sade asked, jotting something down on her notepad.

"I mean...he was a really sweet and funny person. I fell for him really quickly, which had never really happened to me before then. But he—he had a jealous side. And it got worse as our relationship went on. He'd get really paranoid about my job and my friends, constantly ask me where I was going, who I was meeting. By the end of it all, it was exhausting. And when he asked me to choose between him or the job...well, I'm sure you can tell what I chose. It actually wasn't a hard decision at that point."

"How did that make you feel? His jealousy?"

Wednesday thought back to those times that felt so far away now with an air of relief it was no longer her reality. She cleared her throat.

"Caged in. Guilty. Suffocated."

The words tumbled out before she could stop herself. Sade nodded.

"If that was how you felt, why didn't you leave the relationship sooner?"

"Because," she began, narrowing her eyes unsurely as she thought about it. "Despite it all, I knew it meant he loved me. And wanted me."

The words came out quietly and she could hear how pathetic it sounded. Sade smiled knowingly and it felt like a lightbulb was starting to flicker in Wednesday's mind, the pieces of the puzzle starting to fall into place.

"Are you familiar with the term 'we accept the love we think we deserve'?"

"Yes. It's from the perks of being a wallflower, isn't it?"

Sade nodded.

"It is indeed. And it's a great quote to explain a complicated phenomenon. You see, how we allow our other halves to treat us is a reflection of the treatment we think we deserve. So, for someone who has a low opinion of themself, they are more likely to romantically choose someone that will treat them badly. And they won't accept the love of someone who does care about them, because they feel it is surreal or they're undeserving."

"So...I started dating Patrick...because he treated me bad?"

Wednesday's head felt like it was spinning, her entre notion of what was true and false completely flipped. But Sade smiled, shaking her head.

"No. I imagine you started dating Patrick because you liked him. You stayed with him for as long as you did, because he treated you poorly. Which in turn, unconsciously affirmed your own feelings about yourself."

"That I'm unlovable?" Wednesday clarified.

"Yes. Often, feeling unlovable and feeling worthless are interchangeable phrases that mean pretty much the same thing. That you believe you're unworthy of love or respect."

"So that's my core belief?"