The therapy room was dimly lit, a soft light filtering in through a large window, casting a muted glow over the two armchairs facing each other across a small coffee table. Roslin sat in one of the chairs, her arms folded tightly, her gaze fixed out the window as though the world outside held the answers she sought. Across from her, Dave tapped his foot impatiently, his jaw clenched. The tension between them was palpable.

The door creaked open, and Mrs. Agbor, a composed, middle-aged therapist with an air of calm authority, entered the room holding a clipboard. She paused, taking in the atmosphere before her, then walked slowly to her chair and settled in, clasping her hands together. She exhaled audibly, breaking the silence.

"Good afternoon, both of you," she said with a warm smile. "It's finally nice to meet you, Roslin. Dave has shared so many wonderful things about you."

Roslin arched an eyebrow. "Oh, has he now?"

Dave glanced away, hissing under his breath, his body language tense.

"Dave," Mrs. Agbor interjected, her tone gentle but firm, "let's tone down the attitude, shall we?"

Roslin shook her head, her voice rising slightly. "He's been like this all morning, acting like a complete child. I honestly don't know what else to do."

Dave straightened, glaring at her. "Oh, so now I'm a child?"

She rolled her eyes, leaning back in her chair. "Yes, Dave. You've been sulking ever since I said I wasn't ready to have kids. Why is that such a problem?"

He leaned forward, his voice sharp. "Listen to yourself, Roslin. We've been married for six months. We're financially stable—there's literally nothing stopping us from having children. What's your excuse?"

Roslin threw her hands in the air, exasperated. "Oh, please! This isn't about kids, and you know it! It's about the fact that I said I'm not ready for sex! Can't you just be understanding for once?"

Dave's voice grew louder as he stood and began pacing. "Understanding? We dated for a whole year and I never touched you! Now, after six months of marriage, it's the same story! I respected your decision to wait until marriage. But now? What's the excuse? Are you the only born-again Christian in the world?"

Roslin's grip tightened on the armrests of her chair, her voice soft but resolute. "Dave, you already know the issue. I have a phobia of sex. Until I can work through it, I just can't. I want to focus on my ministry for now."

He stopped pacing, turning to face her, his fists clenched. "Ministry? You want me to think about ministry when I'm standing there, wanting to be close to my own wife? I've respected you enough. I never cheated on you, but this is ridiculous! It has to stop!"

Mrs. Agbor raised a hand, her tone cutting through the rising tension. "That's enough! Both of you! You came here to resolve this, not to argue endlessly. Let's focus on the real issue at hand."

Roslin crossed her arms, turning toward the therapist. "Ma, I have no problem with my husband. He's the one who refuses to understand that I'm just not ready yet."

Calmly, pen poised on her clipboard, Mrs. Agbor looked at Roslin thoughtfully. "And why is that, Roslin?"

Roslin dropped her gaze, her voice faltering. "Because… because…"

Dave scoffed, leaning back in his chair. "See? This is what she does every time I ask her. Even when we were dating, she refused sex, saying she wanted to wait until marriage to keep her virginity. I was in love, so I waited. Now, we're married, and still, nothing! No medical issues—nothing! One day, she finally tells me she has genophobia. And why? She won't say. That's why we're here."

Mrs. Agbor nodded thoughtfully, then turned to Dave. "Alright, Dave. Could I ask you to give us a moment? I need to speak with Roslin alone."

Roslin frowned, sitting up. "Why does he need to leave?"

Dave sighed, walking over to her and planting a quick peck on her forehead before exiting, leaving Roslin and Mrs. Agbor alone in the quiet room.

"I have nothing to say," Roslin muttered, crossing her arms again.

"I never said you had to," Mrs. Agbor replied with a soft smile, raising her hands in a gesture of surrender.

Roslin eyed her suspiciously. "Then why send him out?"

Mrs. Agbor leaned back in her chair, her tone light. "Because I want us to have a women's chat. Now, how did you feel the first time you kissed your husband?"

Roslin hesitated, her brow furrowed. "I… I don't know."

"Come on, Roslin," Mrs. Agbor coaxed playfully. "You must have felt something! Butterflies? A spark of electricity?"

A small chuckle escaped Roslin despite herself. "Fine. I liked it… very, very much."

"Look at that smile!" Mrs. Agbor laughed softly. "He must've been quite the kisser."

Roslin's smile widened. "Well, he wasn't that good, but… he was alright."

Laughing, Mrs. Agbor got up and walked to a small fridge in the corner, pulling out a bottle. "Want a drink?"

"I don't drink," Roslin said, shaking her head.

Mrs. Agbor waved a hand dismissively. "It's non-alcoholic. Just a little something to loosen up."

After a moment's hesitation, Roslin nodded. "Alright. A sip won't hurt."

Mrs. Agbor poured two glasses, handing one to Roslin. "What was your childhood like?"

Roslin took a sip, shrugging. "It was… fine, I guess."

Mrs. Agbor nodded, her tone softening. "Mine was tough. Really tough."

Roslin leaned forward, curiosity flickering in her eyes. "How so?"

"Why don't we play a little game?" Mrs. Agbor suggested, setting down her glass. "I'll share something about myself, and you do the same. Deal?"

Roslin shook her head, setting her glass down. "No, thanks."

Mrs. Agbor smiled knowingly. "I can tell you love your husband. But if you don't open up, he might end this marriage before this therapy is over."

Roslin sat up straighter, her voice defensive. "He won't. He loves me."

Mrs. Agbor nodded thoughtfully. "He does. But love doesn't mean endless patience. If this doesn't change, he may consider a divorce. And, Roslin, if that happens, you know society will judge you, scrutinize you, especially given your status."

Roslin bit her lip, her eyes flickering upward briefly before focusing on her hands. "Did he… did he tell you he wanted a divorce?"

Mrs. Agbor's voice softened. "No, dear. He didn't say that. He only mentioned how tired he is. Tired of you not opening up. He feels it's taking a toll on his mental health."

"Mental health?" Roslin asked, her brows furrowed in surprise.

Mrs. Agbor nodded compassionately. "Yes. As much as men dislike involving therapists in their relationships… he took that step for you, for the both of you." She leaned forward slightly, her voice quiet but firm. "Are you ready to fight for this marriage?"

Roslin's breath trembled, her hands shaking slightly in her lap. "I don't know," she whispered, uncertainty clouding her gaze, though a hint of hope flickered there as well.

Mrs. Agbor leaned in, her voice calm but determined. "Roslin, don't forget—you are the key to saving this marriage."

Roslin shook her head, her voice breaking. "You don't understand. I have so many wounds… ones I've buried deep. I'm damaged. Broken." She looked away, her voice barely a whisper. "No one would understand, not even Dave, the one person who has truly shown me love."

A heavy silence settled in the room. Mrs. Agbor took a deep breath, her expression empathetic but unwavering. "You say all this… but you haven't even tried."

Roslin turned toward her sharply, frustration flashing in her eyes. "Do you think he'll still love me if I show him my scars? If he finds out about everything I've been hiding?"

"The only way to answer those questions," Mrs. Agbor said softly, her gaze unwavering, "is by opening up. So, the real question is, are you ready?"

Roslin exhaled deeply, her shoulders slumping as though a weight had been lifted, even if only slightly. She nodded, her voice hesitant but firm. "Yes. Let's play your game. Just… don't rush me for answers, okay?"

The smallest of smiles touched Mrs. Agbor's lips, a look of understanding passing between them. "Take all the time you need."