Three days later, Julian was back at Glenwood Cottage, this time carrying a sleek silver laptop instead of pastries.
They had spent the previous evenings researching. Elara couldn't handle the sensory overload of a hospital or a crowded clinic in the city, so Julian had found a highly recommended speech-language pathologist who specialized in trauma-induced vocal loss and offered telehealth consultations.
Now, the laptop was set up on the small, scratched dining table. Elara sat stiffly in the chair, her hands clasped so tightly in her lap that her knuckles were white.
"It's just an initial consultation," Julian reminded her softly, pulling up a chair beside her but staying just out of the webcam's view. "You don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with. If you want to shut the laptop at any point, you just tap the screen, and I'll close it. Deal?"
Elara offered a jerky, tense nod. She reached out and typed in the chat box they had opened on the side of the screen: *Deal.*
The screen shifted from a loading circle to a video feed. A woman with warm brown skin, silver-rimmed glasses, and a kind, professional smile appeared on the screen. The background was a neat, brightly lit office.
"Good morning, Elara," the woman said, her voice smooth and calming. "I'm Dr. Aris. It's very nice to meet you."
Elara raised a trembling hand and offered a small wave to the camera.
"I have the notes you sent over regarding the accident and the diagnosis of psychogenic aphonia," Dr. Aris continued, her tone gentle but clinical. "I also see that you prefer to communicate via the chat box today. That is perfectly fine. We will take this entirely at your pace."
Elara let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She glanced at Julian. He gave her a subtle thumbs-up, his presence a steady anchor in the terrifying storm of taking this first medical step.