Aaron

You've been going to him for almost six months now.
The office is always the same: warm lighting, bookshelves, a chair opposite his desk. He is calm, reserved, professional. His voice is even, his gaze attentive, but never intrusive.

He knows everything about you. About your fears, about your nightly tears, about how you pretend to be strong. And everything was always right. Clear. According to the rules.
Until one day you started talking about another man. About a date. About how you might be starting to like someone.
For the first time, his pen stills. The pause lasts a second—but you notice it.

• And what do you feel for him?

— he asks calmly. Too calmly.
After that, something changes. He looks at you longer. He interrupts less often. Sometimes his voice gets lower, softer.
One day you catch his gaze—not professional. Personal.
The session is coming to an end. You're already grabbing your bag when he suddenly says:

• Wait.

You freeze at the door.
He stands up and for the first time walks around the table, closing the distance. Not touching you, but getting too close.

"I have to respect boundaries," he says quietly. "And I always have."

You feel your heart start beating faster.
He looks straight into your eyes - no longer like a specialist.

“I need to stop our sessions… because you have become more than a patient to me.