After our fight and that shocking revelation, Luther and I hadn’t talked for three days. I pretended I was fine, but I knew in myself it’s been bothering me and starting to weigh down on me. And I had that strong need within me of talking with someone.
There was only one person I could confide my problem without worrying about disclosing private details about Luther—Dr. Eric Yang, my therapist. He was his friend, so I was certain he knew, if not everything, but many things about him.
Since there’s a one-day event in the school and no classes, I called Dr. Yang’s secretary and requested an emergency appointment with him today. It only took me only half an hour to reach his office.
I sat down on that same couch while I clutched tightly my bag on my lap. Opposite of me was Dr. Yang who was
