Well…it seems

Miranda Wong pushed open the door to her small apartment, the faint hum of the city outside fading as she stepped into the quiet space. She slipped off her shoes and aligned them neatly by the entrance, a small ritual that helped her feel grounded after a long day. But tonight, no amount of order could quiet the chaos swirling in her mind.

Her bag thudded softly onto the desk as she pulled out a notepad and pen. She flipped to a blank page and began writing, the crisp scratch of pen on paper filling the silence.

Subject exhibited resistance but maintained a calculated demeanor.

Behavior suggests self-assuredness rooted in entitlement.

Persistent attempts to assert dominance—clearly compensatory behavior.

Potential for deeper insecurities, though no visible signs of cracking under pressure.

Her hand hesitated before she added another note.

Further conditioning required to address defiance. Subject’s privilege is deeply ingrained.

Miranda stared at the page, her jaw tightening. Garrett Silver. His name alone made her chest tighten, though whether it was from frustration or something else, she couldn’t yet say. His yellow-blue eyes lingered in her memory, the way they had met hers with an almost mocking intensity.

She set the pen down, inhaling sharply. There was more work to do. Reaching for her phone, she scrolled through her contacts and dialed a familiar number. The line barely rang before Anita Williams picked up, her voice sharp and commanding.

“Miranda. What’s your report?”

Miranda adjusted her glasses and leaned back in her chair. “The session went as expected. Garrett remains defiant, but I believe the program is beginning to take effect. His confidence is clearly a facade, though it’s deeply rooted. Breaking through it will take time.”

Anita let out a short, derisive laugh. “Time? You’ve got all the time you need as long as you deliver results. Don’t forget—boys like Garrett don’t think they have to play by the rules. He’s a prime example of white entitlement, and I expect you to strip it from him, piece by piece.”

Miranda nodded, though Anita couldn’t see her. “I’m confident we’ll see progress soon. I’ve scheduled the next session off-site for more focused work.”

“Good,” Anita replied. “Laura, Katherine, and I are expecting a lot from you. Garrett isn’t just some spoiled kid; he’s a symbol of everything we’re working to dismantle. Make sure you remember that.”

“I do,” Miranda said, her voice steady despite the weight of the words.

“And when you’re done with next week’s session, I want you in my office. We’ll debrief, and I’ll update Laura and Katherine. This isn’t just about Garrett—this is about proving we can take control of the system itself.”

Miranda swallowed the knot forming in her throat. “Understood.”

Anita’s tone softened only slightly. “Good. Rest up, Miranda. You’ve got a lot riding on this.”

The line went dead, and Miranda placed her phone down on the desk. She exhaled slowly, her fingers pressing against her temples. The pressure was suffocating at times, the expectations of so many weighing heavily on her shoulders. And yet, it was Garrett who occupied her thoughts the most.

Later That Evening

The warm glow of a lavender-scented candle flickered on Miranda’s bedside table, casting long shadows across the room. She moved through her nightly routine with practiced efficiency—washing her face, brushing her teeth, and slipping into a loose camisole and shorts. She ran a brush through her dark hair before setting it on the nightstand, her reflection in the mirror catching her eye.

She hesitated, the faintest blush rising to her cheeks as Garrett’s image intruded on her thoughts. His broad shoulders, the way his muscles tensed beneath the fabric of his shirt, his unyielding gaze that seemed to challenge her authority at every turn.

Shaking her head, Miranda turned off the bathroom light and climbed into bed. The sheets were cool against her skin, but the heat building in her chest made it impossible to relax. She told herself it was professional—just a lingering analysis of his behavior. But deep down, she knew that wasn’t true.

She closed her eyes, but the images came unbidden. Garrett leaning forward during the session, his voice low and deliberate, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. The way his eyes locked onto hers, as if daring her to maintain control.

Miranda’s breath quickened as she pressed her face into the pillow, trying to will the thoughts away. But they only grew stronger, more vivid. The memory of his strength, his defiance, his presence—so overwhelming it left her trembling.

Miranda turned onto her side, her body tense and her mind racing. She hated how much space he took up in her thoughts, how he seemed to dominate even her quietest moments. And yet, as her breathing slowed, she couldn’t deny the small thrill that coursed through her veins at the memory of him.