Chapter 25
UNDER THE APPLE TREE
Sabine double-checked the address on her phone and frowned.
This couldn’t be right. She was sitting in the parking lot of a brick office suite owning a fancy sign that read Pumila Psychiatry.
The building itself looked normal enough—beige with navy awnings, glass doors, a few cars scattered in the lot.
Narri had texted her this morning.
That was it. No context. No emojis. Just a location pin and an assumption that she’d follow instructions which she would because her bestie asked, and she delivered.
Sabine got out the car slowly, heels clicking across the pavement as she walked toward the main entrance. Twist out now pinned up in a messy bun after a long day, hoops still in, lip gloss on.
There was a placard beside the door, one of those engraved metalones. She paused when she saw the name:
Dr. Apple Pie, M.D., Ph.D.
Board-Certified Psychiatrist & Licensed Clinical Psychologist
Trauma-Informed & Family Systems Specialist
Specializing in Marriage & Relationship Therapy, PTSD, Complex Trauma, and Integrated Mental Health Care
Her chest tightened.
No way.
Sabine didn’t have time to ponder because her stomach had already started flipping. The kind of flip that told her she wasn’t just here to meet Narri. She reached for the handle slowly, the breath in her throat already caught.
The door opened with a gentle whoosh and a soft chime overhead. The inside was all warm tones and low lighting—beige couches, real plants, a tiny fountain bubbling in the center of the room.
Sitting in one of the chairs near the corner, legs crossed, phone in hand—
Adair.
He looked up at the sound of the door, and for a second, his eyes flickered with something unreadable. Not shock. Not guilt. Just…readiness. Readiness?
Sabine stopped in her tracks.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered under her breath.
The receptionist—young, with neat braids and a gentle smile—greeted her before she could turn around.
“Hi, Ms. Knight, you’re right on time. Dr. Pie said to let you both know she’ll be ready in just a few minutes. You’re welcome to take a seat.”
Sabine’s heart sank.
Adair stood up slowly, sliding his phone into his pocket. “I asked Narri to do this,” he said, as if reading her mind. “I…we need this.”
Sabine stared at him. At the room. At the logo on the wall behind the receptionist desk—a tree with roots tangled around a heart shaped apple. She closed her eyes for one breath, then another.
For years, she’d asked him to do this.
To sit down. To talk. To meet her somewhere—anywhere. He always had excuses. Work. Timing. The baby. His ego.
And now—after all this time, all this pain—now he wanted to sit in front of a stranger and say what he couldn’t say when it actually counted?
“I’m not doing this to trap you,” Adair said barely audible. “But I am doing this because I finally got the message and I know it’s late. Maybe too late but I want to try…please”
Sabine looked away, unsure if the burn in her eyes was heat or shame. Probably both.
“You knew to get Narri to spring this on me,” she whispered.
Adair nodded once. “She knew I wouldn’t say the right thing to get you here. I just…I wanted you here and I knew she was how I could do it.”
Sabine sighed and finally stepped closer into the room, arms crossed tight. “Let’s just get this over with,” she murmured.
But inside?
Inside, a part of her had already sat down. Had been waiting in that chair for years.
The receptionist offered her another smile and gestured toward the seating area again. Adair was still standing, hands in his pockets, not pushing, just waiting. Sabine sat, but only because her knees felt like they might buckle otherwise.
The room smelled like eucalyptus and clean carpet. Something calm and clinical. There was a stack of Psychology Today magazines on the glass coffee table and a laminated list of resources for grief, trauma, and family crisis support.
Of course there was.
Sabine kept her eyes on her lap. She didn’t want to look at him.
Didn’t want to look at the man who once acted as if therapy wouldn’t fix what was already so broken.
The man who used to brush past her pleas with a tight-lipped “we’re fine” while she fell apart quietly in the bathroom.
The man who was now…here. In this lobby.
In this chair. In this moment she’d begged for years.
The ache in her throat thickened, but before she could fully spiral, the frosted door at the far end of the room opened with a soft click.
“Ms. Knight. Mr. Dayne.”
Both of their heads turned at once.
Dr. Apple Pie stepped out—elegant but earthy, warm but composed.
Her gray hair was swept up into a high, perfectly round bun, not a single strand out of place.
She wore a knee-length black dress, simple and clean, paired with mustard yellow pumps that looked too cheerful for this kind of appointment.
No makeup. No jewelry. Just a pair of glasses perched on her head and eyes that carried wisdom deeper than most people could comprehend.
Her presence wasn’t intimidating but it filled the room anyway.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” she said gently. “Come on back.”
Sabine rose slowly, not missing the way Adair waited for her to go first. She didn’t look at him. Didn’t acknowledge the chivalry or the old habit. She just followed the sound of Dr. Pie’s voice and the faint scent of lavender trailing behind her.
The hallway was narrow and soft-lit. Framed affirmations lined the walls—Healing is not linear. You deserve peace. Say the thing out loud. Each one felt like a personal attack.
They reached the office at the end.
It looked more like a cozy den than a clinical space. Two deep chairs angled slightly toward each other. A large window with sheer curtains letting in the end-of-day light. Bookshelves full of texts and tissues. A small table with ceramic mugs—water already waiting beside it.
Dr. Pie motioned to the chairs. “Sit wherever feels right.”
Sabine sat first this time, dropping her purse to the side and tucking her legs carefully beneath the chair. Adair sat across from her. Not beside her. Across from her. Like this was court.
Dr. Pie didn’t sit immediately. She moved with intention. Like a therapist who’d done this for decades. Like a woman who’d seen hundreds of broken hearts walk into her room and still believed every single one could heal.
“Before we begin,” she said softly, “I want to thank you both for being here. Couples therapy, especially after separation or trauma, isn’t easy. It takes courage to sit in this space…and honesty. So whatever you’re bringing with you today…you’re welcome to put it down. At least for the next hour.”
Inhaling sharply, Sabine tried to push past the tightening in her throat.
“Sabine,” Dr. Pie turned to her with kind, perceptive eyes. “I know this wasn’t your idea.”
“No,” she said quietly. “It wasn’t.”
“But you showed up anyway.”
Sabine nodded, unable to say more. Her voice felt like it was caught somewhere behind the tightness in her chest.
“And Adair,” Dr. Pie turned her attention to him. “You initiated this?”
“I did,” he said. His voice was low but firm. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes and I know I can’t undo them but I want to understand them. I want to understand her and I want to be better…even if it’s too late to fix us.”
Something in Sabine flinched. That last part. Even if it’s too late. Dr. Pie gave a slow, knowing nod. Then she finally sat down, legs crossed at the ankle, hands folded neatly in her lap.
“All right,” she said, her voice settling between them like a weightless net.
“Let’s talk.” She leaned back just slightly in her chair, folding one leg over the other.
Her notepad rested on the arm beside her, though she didn’t reach for it yet.
“Let’s begin with you, Mr. Dayne, you asked for this session and I’m curious, why now? Why here? Why with your ex-wife?”
The title landed deliberately. Her tone was easy, almost casual but the choice of words wasn’t. She said "ex-wife" deliberately, watching both of their reactions.
Adair didn’t react, but Sabine noticed the brief tick of his jaw. He hated that word. Ex-wife. He always had. He looked over at Sabine for a moment. Her arms were crossed, her eyes unreadable. Then he shifted his gaze back to Dr. Pie and spoke.
“Because I should’ve done this a long time ago.”
Dr. Pie waited. No pen. No nods.
Adair cleared his throat.
“We never had a chance to slow down. From the moment we got together…it was constant movement. School. Work. Babies. Grief. Success. Everything was just happening. Fast and I thought—” he stopped.
“I thought if I kept providing, kept building something, I was being a good man. A good husband. A good father. I didn’t understand back then that presence wasn’t about being in the house. It was about being with her.”
Sabine blinked slowly listening to every word. Feeling every word.
“I let too many things go unsaid. Or said the wrong way. I avoided hard conversations. Or made them harder than they had to be and now we’re here.
I’m not proud of that but I’m here because I finally realize.
..I didn’t lose her over one fight, or one betrayal.
I lost her because I didn’t protect her.
I didn’t protect us. I didn’t protect our family.
I didn’t listen. I didn’t even fight the way I should have. ”
Dr. Pie nodded slowly, keeping her gaze calm and open. “And what do you want from her now?”