August 1, 2015
Dear Leah,
Somehow, my therapist knows how I feel about Ayesha. I never told him, though, so Klay must've told him.
Dammit, Klay.
On the bright side, my therapist decided that I wouldn't be needing regular appointments with him any more because I'm "doing better." Before he left my house for the final time, he decided to pull an MLK and say an inspirational speech.
"When one member of your basketball team gets injured, the season doesn't end there. The rest of the team has to pick up their teammate's load and keep going. Maybe the season will go worse than expected, but the team still has to fight to win games. You still have to do everything you can to win. I promise you, Stephen, that your injured teammate has always been on the sidelines, cheering for you on every step of your success."
I'm usually not a fan of cheesy analogies, especially ones associating you with an injured teammate. But I figured I'd let him go on, since it was the last time I'd ever see the guy.
Then he said, with his high-pitched voice and everything, "I've been doing this job for as long as I can remember. I can tell when one of my patients is stuck between holding onto the past and moving on. Leah would want you to be happy."
And for the first time since I met my therapist, I actually believed him.
From,
Stephen
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Letters to Leah » Stephen Curry
FanfictionStephen Curry is the happiest man in the world until his world is ripped away from him. When his wife, Leah, tragically passes away, he shuts everything--and everyone--out. He talks to no one. So he writes.
