Page 156 of Holy Hearts
Smiling, Monica clasps her hands together on her lap. “It’s very important to have these romantic relationships, you know. To foster connection. It’s wonderful that you’ve found two people to share that with.”
I nod slowly. “It is. But I can’t help but feel like… I don’t belong.”
“Do they make you feel that way?”
I think back to last weekend—the soft brush of Sophie’s fingers through my hair, the press of Julian’s lips against my skin.
“Mine.”
“You’re fucking mine, Ravage. I don’t care how long it’s been.”
“I don’t care who’s touched you since. You were mine then, and you’re mine now.”
The way Julian’s gaze had shifted when he said,“Imagine watching her with another man together.”
The shadow of doubt. The space that opened between us even as we stayed physically close.
No,I realize.It’s not them.
And, of course, the looks on their faces when I walked out of their house last week.
I hadn’t seen Julian, but I had kept my word and helped Sophie with the shop after I got done at Saint Helena. Our time was spent in near silence, but I could feel her eyes on meconstantly. And every evening when I said goodbye, she looked like she wanted to say something. Last night, I swear I saw tears in her eyes when I left.
“No, it’s not them,” I tell Monica. Sighing, I lean back and run my hand down my mouth. “I suppose I just don’t feel worthy of them. Like they’re too good to be true. Like I’m waiting for them to move on.”
Monica’s eyes sharpen, and she leans in slightly. “Malakai, that sounds less like a relationship problem and more like something you’ve been carrying for a long time. Has that feeling—of being unworthy—always been there?”
I hesitate. My hands come together in my lap, and my fingers twist and untwist nervously.
“Maybe. I guess that’s possible.” Sighing, I continue. “I’ve always tried to do the right thing, but it always feels like it’s never enough. Like maybe…I’mnever enough. For God. For my students. For Julian and Sophie.”
Her kind expression doesn’t falter, but there’s a thread of empathy woven into her calm demeanor now. With her, though, it doesn’t feel like pity. It feels like she understands.
“That’s a heavy burden to carry. But here’s the truth, Malakai—you don’t have to earn your worthiness. It’s not something given by others, nor is it something you lose. It’s inherent. And that feeling of being ‘not enough’—that’s the piece we’ll work on together. It’s not something we can untangle in one session. It’s certainly not aneasyfix. This work you’re doing—the work of understanding and accepting yourself—it’s a process. It’s not always linear, but it is deeply worthwhile.”
Nodding, I feel both relief and frustration. Relief that there’s a reason for this constant knot in my chest, and frustration for the daunting task of doing something that feels insurmountable.
Monica continues. “For now, I want to give you some homework.”
I arch a brow. “Homework?”
She smiles. “Yes. Before our next session, I want you to write down one thing every day that you like about yourself. It could be something you did that day, something about your personality, or even something you notice about yourself physically. Whatever feels right. The point is to start identifying these pieces of yourself that are already enough—already good.”
I blink at her. “That sounds… hard.”
“It might be,” she admits. “But it’s also practice. And like anything else, it will get easier with time. I also want you to spend a few minutes reflecting on what Julian and Sophie see in you. They’ve chosen to include you in their lives, Malakai. They see something in you that’s worth loving. What do you think that might be?”
Her words land heavier than I expect, a knot forming in my throat. I manage to nod, swallowing hard. “Okay. I’ll try.”
“That’s all I ask,” she says, her smile kind and warm. “I don’t expect you to have all the answers right away. But you have to be willing to explore the questions.”
The session winds down after that, and Monica thanks me for my honesty. She reminds me for the second time that it’s okay to feel uncomfortable with these truths I’m uncovering.
Perhaps this time, her advice will stick.
As I leave her office, the weight on my shoulders feels a little different—not lighter, exactly, but less suffocating.
The homework she’s given me feels daunting, but as I step out into the brisk evening air, I think maybe it’s a step I can take.
