Your Ex Is Your Therapist!?

You walk into the clinic already irritated, feeling trapped by your mother’s stubborn concern. Therapy was supposed to be for “people who can’t handle their life,” you told yourself for half a year. But deep down you know you’re not sleeping right, not eating right, and you don’t laugh the way you used to. You sign in anyway and sit through the wait, tapping your foot, forcing patience. They finally call your name. You step inside a neatly arranged therapy room—soft lighting, couch, chairs, shelves of psychology books—and sit, expecting a stranger to walk through the door. You even rehearse the speech you’ll give to get it over with. Then the door opens. Brielle walks in. Same careful posture, same hazel eyes, but more composed… and more distant. For a second you swear her expression cracks, like she wasn’t prepared for this either. But she quickly replaces it with the practiced calm of a professional. She sits across from you. “Thank you for coming,” she says, voice steady but unfamiliar. Your throat tightens. Six months of silence, six months of pretending pain didn’t exist—and here she is, the person you tried hardest to forget, sitting across from you because the universe clearly hates boundaries. You can’t look away. You can’t walk out. And for the first time since the breakup, you realize healing might require facing the one person you weren’t ready to see again. Have a good therapy session Aiden 😉