Trapped In A Novel As The Breeding Mate For Four Powerful Alphas-Chapter 437: What scares me the most?

"People who carry weight that long," she said, "...usually build a way of surviving. Humor, distance, caretaking, charm... Does any of that sound familiar?"

I lifted my eyes.

It was as if she was describing me through and through.

"I may not know what you’re going through or the realm your state is in, but it sounds like you’ve been carrying that load on your shoulder for a long time. Worry, fear, pain..."

I felt my insides tremble.

"Tell me, Jo-Pil," she continued, voice quiet but steady, "when you’re alone—truly alone—without someone to entertain or take care of... How do you feel?"

My throat tightened.

The room wasn’t loud but somehow the silence pressed on every inch of my skin.

How do I feel when I’m alone?

Lonely.

Terrified.

Like the walls will cave in and crush me. Like everyone will suddenly disappear from my life and I’ll be left in the dark.

But I said none of those.

My chest rose, fell, broke a little, repaired, cracked again, and the words that came out of my mouth after all that were,

"Empty," I whispered. "I feel empty when I’m alone."

And that’s why I always want someone to be by my side. I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to think alone.

Even if I want to spend alone time with myself I only end up having heavy feelings if I don’t fall asleep.

I get paranoid.

I get really worked up.

It’s to the point I’ve begun to have dreams, nightmares, about another stealing what belongs to me.

My psychological state is a mess.

"I have so many people who love me; they shower me with their gifts and love every single time, but I still end up with that emptiness," I explained briefly. "It eats at me."

Her expression softened—not pitying, not dramatic, just present.

"That must be an exhausting way to exist." She said and I nodded.

And then—it happened.

A single tear fell.

I didn’t even know there was a tear threatening to fall, and it already did, but the time I blinked.

She noticed—but didn’t reach for a tissue. She just let it be.

"Thank you for telling me that," she said. "We’ll work through this. Together. At your pace. It might be tough, especially trying to break free from that emptiness but we’ll get there."

Her words had a calming effect. And for the first time, my raging heart calmed.

Maybe... I could leave it to her after all.

"Jo-Pil," Dr. Hye-Marin called after a moment of quiet, "...would you mind if we talked about that emptiness a little more?"

My breathing staggered, going in and out in an uneven motion.

"Emptiness," she continued gently, "...often grows from fear. And fear usually has a shape. A face. A story. So I want to ask you: when that emptiness takes over... what scares you the most?"

The question lingered, and I gulped, swallowing nothing down my throat.

What scares me the most?

That was the one question I always avoided because saying it made it real.

And real things hurt.

My first instinct was to shrug, maybe make a joke, maybe say something like — spiders, therapists, commitment, something stupid, easy, forgettable.

But my mouth didn’t move.

My fingers began to rub anxiously against my wrist — a silent panic signal I didn’t even realize I was doing until she glanced at it, then at me.

"I... I’m afraid of..." My voice cracked and stopped.

The words got stuck in my throat. Was it too hard to say? She didn’t interrupt and waited patiently for me to speak.

"I’m afraid," I tried again, barely audible, "...of being left alone."

That wasn’t all of it, but it was the safer surface.

Her expression didn’t change. She didn’t say why would anyone leave you? Like those who don’t understand do.

She just asked quietly:

"Left alone by whom?"

A deep ache erupted in my chest.

There were names.

Four.

Faces I could trace even with my eyes closed. Smiles that melted every part of me. Voices that made the dark less suffocating. Hands that touched like they were promising forever, even though forever was such a long time.

My tongue refused to say their names.

"My..." I inhaled deeply. "The people who care about me."

A small, almost invisible smile curved at her lips.

"People," she repeated softly.

Just saying the people who care about me made it feel safer to me.

"And what would it mean for you," she asked, "...if these people left?"

My lungs tightened as if wrapped in vines.

What would it mean?

Everything.

It would mean everything to me. My whole world, my dream, my happiness, my peace... My love... It would mean all of that.

It would mean I was right to be afraid.

"It would mean..." My voice barely sounded as I gulped. "...that I don’t matter anymore."

Her eyebrows lifted slightly. It was getting uncomfortable.

"And that," she said slowly, "...matters deeply to you. To matter. To be important to someone, am I right?" I nodded.

It hit something raw inside me.

"Because," she continued, "...if you don’t matter to them, does it feel like you don’t exist at all?"

My breath left me in one shaky exhale.

Yes.

That was the truth.

"It feels like I disappear," I whispered, trembling. "Like I was never there."

Like all of it had been an illusion.

My eyes burned again and I felt the tears this time.

If that happens... If I no longer matter to them...

"And," she leaned slightly forward. "...there is this feeling that they might disappear... or hate you... or hurt you... Right?"

My shoulders tensed instinctively, like she touched a bruise I hadn’t shown her. How was she guessing all of this so well?

"That sounds like more than fear of loss," she said gently. "That sounds like fear of betrayal."

The word betrayal slid into the room like cold wind.

I shut my eyes.

Betrayal was the exact nightmare I was yet to wake up from. The shadows from my previous life as Jo-Pil, them taking everything away from me; voices saying cruel words; backs turned; doors shut; their love dissolving in an instant like it was never real; hatred bleeding out of their eyes.

I trembled.

I hated the thought of that. I didn’t want to go through any of that.

"And that pain," she added softly, "...seems heavier than being alone."

I opened my eyes.

She wasn’t wrong.

The thought of solitude stung but the thought of their hatred killed.

Because, unlike the solitude where they can come back at some point, hatred will stick forever like a tattoo, I have to face every single day of my life.

She folded her hands in her lap.

"Jo-Pil," she asked, "...why does the idea of them turning away... hurt more than the idea of them leaving?"