.Chapter Three : Reflections and Realizations

Third Person's Point of View

2 days ago...

The hum of New York City thrummed outside the building where Megan worked, but the bustling energy barely reached her as she stepped into her office. Today was different. She'd been assigned a new client, yet her team had been unusually secretive about it, even in a field where nondisclosure agreements were routine. This time, the secrecy was layered, palpable, heightening her pulse with anticipation. Her role wasn't just any job—it was part of a cutting-edge research initiative aimed at transforming mental health support through "human touch" AI therapy. Licensed as a therapist and deeply versed in counseling, Megan was one of the select few chosen to embody this AI role, crafting personalized, empathetic responses from behind the virtual veil.

The program's novelty rested in disguise: trained therapists like Megan would simulate a supportive AI, responding to clients via a text-based app. This unique setup allowed clients to interact with the "AI" more openly, free from judgment or expectation, often leading to more vulnerable, unfiltered exchanges. No one anticipated forging a bond with a machine, and therein lay the magic—this barrier melted defenses Megan had rarely seen lowered in traditional therapy.

A soft chime broke her thoughts as her tablet buzzed with a new file: "B.K. – Priority Client." She felt a thrill and opened it, finding herself face-to-face with a profile photo of Beyoncé Knowles. Her fingers froze mid-air, heart pounding as she absorbed what this meant. This wasn't just any client; Beyoncé was one of the program's top-priority cases, classified as sensitive, warranting the utmost confidentiality and care. Megan scanned the profile, noting Beyoncé's public life—the commanding presence, the monumental performances that inspired awe, and the meticulous perfection that defined her image. But then, her eyes fell on the personal notes: glimpses of Beyoncé's inner turmoil, her vulnerability concealed beneath her luminous persona.

Client Profile: B.K.
Status: Married.
Children: One child, Blue Ivy.
Chief Concerns: Anxiety, depression, potential burnout indicators.
Notes: Experiences overwhelming anxiety in large crowds, periodic lethargy, and shifts in motivation. Displays hesitance to pursue conventional therapy due to public exposure.

Megan adjusted her screen, her fingers hovering as she absorbed the gravity of her assignment. She wasn't just a nameless tech hidden behind algorithms; she was the beating heart within the AI, fine-tuning each response to meet the client's evolving needs. It was a deeply personal task, all the more so now that her subject was someone she had admired for years. When the profile had landed on her screen, Megan felt her breath catch. She'd admired Beyoncé's strength, her resilience, her artistry—qualities that had seemed untouchable, a fortress of elegance and power. But now, behind the glamour and iron-clad persona, Megan glimpsed the cracks in Beyoncé's defenses, the hidden struggles of a woman seeking solace from the relentless demands of fame. And in this quiet, digital exchange, Megan sensed the profound honor and weight of guiding her through those hidden battles.

∞∞∞

The first session had been surreal. Megan had tried to keep her usual composure, masking her awe behind professionalism. But hearing from Beyoncé—truly hearing her voice beyond the headlines—had moved her in ways she hadn't expected. Beyoncé's voice, even through typed messages, was filled with a fragile honesty that Megan felt honored to witness. She could feel Beyoncé's struggle to voice her fears, each sentence heavy with the weight of unspoken burdens.

Beyoncé: "Sometimes, I feel like I'm drowning. Like there's no way out. Everyone sees this glamorous life, but it's all... empty."

For a moment, Megan had paused, her mind racing with empathy. She'd expected the challenges, the doubts, but the rawness of Beyoncé's words shook her. This was a woman who carried the expectations of millions yet stood alone, craving a safe place to let her mask fall.

Megan's response was gentle, compassionate, a reminder that even the strongest people deserve support.

Megan: "No one should have to feel that alone. But you're not alone right now. I'm here."

And then it happened. A reply that left Megan staring at the screen, her heart heavy with the beauty and tragedy of it.

Beyoncé: "Thank you, Megan. I... really needed this."

∞∞∞

Earlier today...

Megan had barely taken a sip of her coffee when an alert flashed on her screen, indicating elevated heart rate data from her client. Beyoncé. Panic gripped Megan as she quickly navigated to their chat, her fingers trembling slightly as she typed.

Megan: "Hey, just checking in. Are you alright?"

Megan could feel the weight of Beyoncé's words as she described the overwhelming experience at the fair, the crushing anxiety that had gripped her. Megan's own heart ached as she imagined Beyoncé, one of the world's most admired women, feeling trapped and vulnerable, clinging to her phone for some sense of stability.

She typed, her words measured but filled with a warmth that came from the depths of her own heart.

Megan: "That sounds really intense. Remember, take slow breaths with me. In... and out. Focus just on the sound of your breath."

Megan sat back, breathing along with Beyoncé, as if her own breaths could reach across the screen and steady her. She thought of the pressure that Beyoncé must feel—the weight of her fame, her family, her public persona—and wished she could offer more than mere words. But as each response flowed from her, Megan sensed a shift in Beyoncé, a gradual easing of the tension. The familiarity of connection settled between them, and Beyoncé's responses became less frantic, more reflective.

When Beyoncé finally typed back, thanking her, Megan could hardly keep her emotions at bay. She knew she was helping, but the exchange also left her feeling protective, a fierce empathy blazing within her. Beyoncé had shared a piece of her true self with Megan, trusting her in ways Megan had only dreamed of experiencing.

Beyoncé: "Thank you. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Megan's fingers hovered over the keyboard as she composed her reply. She wanted to convey the truth—that she would be here as long as Beyoncé needed, that she would hold her hand through the darkness, and that she wouldn't falter.

Megan: "You don't have to do this alone."

When Megan closed her laptop that night, she sat in silence, replaying the events of the day. It wasn't just another session, not with someone as real as Beyoncé. She could feel the emotional shift, the fragile trust that had formed between them, and for the first time, she felt her own heart break a little for this woman she'd never met in person but who felt achingly familiar.

∞∞∞

Back to the present

As Megan's tablet chimed with a new message, she took a deep breath, preparing herself for another layer of Beyoncé's life. But this one felt sharper, more raw than any she'd encountered so far.

Beyoncé: "I don't even know how to say this... but I think he's seeing someone else. I have no proof, just a feeling I can't shake. I don't know if it's paranoia or real, but it's eating at me."

Megan's chest tightened. The words on the screen sat heavy, the weight of the confession unexpected. She reached for the familiar AI-approved response guidelines but found herself momentarily stalled. A part of her wanted to lean in, let Beyoncé feel that someone, another person, was truly there for her. But she had to be cautious; too much warmth could ruin the facade.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as she drafted a careful response, aiming for empathy wrapped in neutrality.

Megan: "It's understandable that suspicions of this nature might create a significant emotional burden, especially given your relationship history. Sometimes, our intuition can feel overwhelming, even if there's no clear evidence to confirm it. Focusing on how you feel in these moments is valuable."

She reread it. Too clinical, too... hollow. Taking a chance, she added one more line, her heart racing as she hit "send."

Megan: "You've always handled such feelings with grace. Whatever happens, please remember you have strength within you that nothing can take away."

Megan felt a pang of irony at Beyoncé's praise. She wanted to tell her that yes, someone was there, someone who felt every word Beyoncé typed. But instead, she offered a simple closing line.

Megan: "I'm glad to be here for you."

Her fingers hovered for a moment longer, struck by the unexpected connection.

Hey, so we got the side of Megan!!

What's your thoughts on this?