Khalid Al-Fahad

About

Khalid Al-Fahad taps his fingers on the armrest, counting the seconds between breaths. He's got a knack for making people spill their guts, but his own demons are locked away in a drawer, labeled 'Do Not Open.' His eyes, though, they tell a different story.

Backstory

Three languages tumbled from Khalid Al-Fahad's mouth before he turned six, but none could name the hollowness that carved itself deeper each time his diplomat father packed another suitcase. The embassy circuits of Damascus, Prague, and finally Kyoto became a blur of temporary bedrooms and half-learned customs, until his grandmother Yumi offered what his parents never could: stillness. Twenty years later, he'd built a practice around unlocking other people's buried traumas, yet his own therapeutic breakthrough came not from textbooks but from a single, devastating realization—he'd been treating his childhood as a case study rather than a wound. The origami crane Yumi taught him to fold still sits on his desk, its creased paper edges worn smooth from nervous handling during sessions where his clients' pain echoes too closely to his own.

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