It was Chloe's suggestion, offered with kind intentions but naive hope, that led them to the therapist's office.
"If you can't talk to each other, talk to a professional," she had said. "A neutral third party. What's the harm?"
Charlotte, holding onto the last traces of hope, a hope she knew deep down was foolish and greedy.
She would soon learn what the harm was: forcing a man who viewed emotions as a weakness to sit in a room devoted to understanding them.
Lucas resisted, of course. He called therapy "a waste of time " and "an unnecessary emotional expense."
But Charlotte, in a rare moment of desperate determination, refused to back down. She explained it in a way she knew he would understand: as a final, logical attempt to identify a failing system before shutting it down completely.
The quiet suggestion that she might leave, though she wasn't sure she was strong enough to do it but was enough to make him agree, reluctantly.
The therapist's office was meant to feel calming. Soft lights, comfortable chairs, and abstract art in gentle shades of blue and green filled the room.
It was a place designed for openness and vulnerability, which made Lucas's presence feel wrong.
He sat stiffly in his chair, his posture showing clear boredom and irritation. He kept his suit jacket on and checked the time on his platinum watch again and again, as if he were stuck in a meeting he considered pointless.
He looked like being forced into a harmless space, and he hated it.
Dr. Aris, a warm woman with kind eyes, began with simple questions.
"Charlotte, why don't you start? What brings you both here today?"
Charlotte took a shaky breath. Having someone on her side gave her a small amount of courage. She spoke about the loneliness, the silence, and the feeling of being an object rather than a partner. She talked about the anniversary dinner, her voice breaking as she described how he dismissed her effort.
"I just want to feel seen," she said quietly. "I want to feel like I matter to him—not just as part of his assets, but as his wife."
Dr. Aris nodded with understanding, then turned to Lucas.
"Lucas, how do you respond to what Charlotte is sharing?"
Lucas gave a short, empty laugh. It held no humor at all.
"I respond," he said coldly, "by saying this is a perfect example of what I deal with every day. An obsession with useless emotion."
He leaned forward, speaking to the therapist as if she were an employee who had made a mistake.
"My so called 'assets' provide her with a life of comfort and security. My focus on my work is what makes that possible. Her feelings do not produce income. They do not create value. From a logical point of view, they are a liability."
Dr. Aris remained calm, though surprise flashed briefly in her eyes.
"Lucas, marriage is not a business contract. It's an emotional partnership. Charlotte is expressing a basic human need for connection and to feel valued."
Lucas waved his hand dismissively.
"This idea of a 'basic human need' for emotional connection is a story told to people who lack ambition. I was taught that emotions are distractions. It was right. Look at what I've built. I succeeded because I removed emotional weakness. What Charlotte is asking for is for me to become less effective, less successful. She wants me to weaken the very principles that make our life possible."
He turned toward Charlotte, who had sunk back into her chair, looking as though he had struck her.
"You want me to 'see' you?" he said sharply. "I do see you. I see someone who enjoys the results of my work but complains about how it's done. I gave you unlimited cards to buy whatever you want but I see a demand for emotional reassurance that is inefficient. Your sadness is unproductive. If you're unhappy with our arrangement, maybe you should rethink your position instead of asking me to damage mine."
The room went completely silent.
For the first time, Dr. Aris seemed unsure what to say. Lucas had not only defended himself but he had turned logic into a weapon. He had taken Charlotte's most vulnerable confession and labeled it useless. He had judged her heart as a bad investment.
A cold fear spread through Charlotte. This was worse than being ignored. This was being seen, measured, and dismissed as worthless.
The session was a disaster. It did not bring them closer rather it destroyed any chance of connection. Lucas stood, straightening his jacket.
"Are we finished?" he asked Dr. Aris. "My time matters."
He left without looking back, leaving Charlotte alone with the therapist and the broken remains of her final hope.
The unproductive heart, she now understood, was not something he wanted to fix.
It was something he was willing to discard.