As a Therapist, I Ignored My Old Flame

The clinic's quiet was broken by a soft knock. Jacob Jackson stepped in, cradling his child tenderly. He gently caught the child's restless hand, his voice soothing and gentle as he spoke. "Easy there, Aaron. We're just here to see the doctor. You'll be feeling fine in no time." Upon hearing the name, my hand paused over the mouse momentarily. Raising my gaze, I found myself looking into a pair of slightly weary eyes. "Nina?" I shifted my attention back to my work, keeping my tone professional. "Hello, could you provide the name?" Silence lingered briefly, and just as I prepared to ask again, a reply came. "Jacob Jackson." My eyes remained glued to the screen, fingers moving swiftly over the keys. "I'm asking for the child's name, Mr. Jackson." It was as if he hadn't caught my words, and I noticed his breathing had grown heavier. "Nina, how's life been treating you all these years?" I wasn't in the mood for reminiscing, so I replied steadily, "Mr. Jackson, I need to see Aaron alone. Could you please wait outside?" An intern escorted Jacob out. After concluding the session with Jacob's son, Aaron Jackson, I found him lingering at the clinic's entrance, unwilling to leave. "Nina, can we have a word?" "Dad," Aaron piped up, interrupting him. "If you chat with another lady, Mom will be real upset. She might hit you hard, like I do." I maintained a professional smile as I saw them off, "Take care, Mr. Jackson." In the examination room, Aaron's folder was splayed out across the desk. At just six years of age, Aaron had already begun exhibiting aggressive behavior, a pattern that started at three. The most alarming incident involved him shoving a classmate down the stairs. That marked Aaron's first psychological evaluation in three years, largely because his mother refused to accept that anything could be wrong with him. I found myself lingering over the section with Aaron's mother's information, lost in a reverie. Encountering an old familiar name no longer evoked any emotional response in me. A week later, I saw Aaron again. His mother accompanied him this time, and even before they entered, a heated argument echoed in the hallway. "My son is not unwell! Who made this diagnosis? Show yourself!" Moments later, the door swung open. It had been years since I had last crossed paths with Emma Scott. She had gained some weight, her hair neatly tied into a ponytail and silver-rimmed glasses perched on her nose, giving her a stern, authoritative aura, much like a schoolteacher. Our eyes locked briefly, and a flicker of recognition contorted her features. "Nina? So it was you who labeled my son with a mental disorder? You're just doing this to settle an old score!" I regarded the flustered Emma with composure. "Please, ma'am, try to remain calm. Aaron's frequent outbursts and tendency to harm others are seriously impacting his life. Acknowledging the gravity of his psychological health could be truly beneficial." "Acknowledge the gravity? Do you mean your revenge? Couldn't take my husband away, so now you're targeting my child? Honestly, who can trust a diagnosis from someone who may have her own mental issues?" The moment Emma's words left her lips, the crowd of patients huddled outside the door stared at me in shock. "A top-notch psychology expert is battling her own mental struggles?" Some immediately whipped out their phones, eager to capture the scene on video. The incident spiraled out of control, not only stirring up a frenzy online but also causing a stir at my workplace. My past was soon an open book for everyone. In a while, the director summoned me into his office. "Ms. Moore, under these circumstances, I think it would be best for you to step away for a while." Leaving the psychological center, I ran into Jacob at the entrance. He looked more exhausted than ever, with a weary redness in his eyes. Amid the rush of people, we exchanged no pleasantries. As we passed each other, he broke the silence. "I'm sorry." I turned to face him, searching in vain for any sign of the young man I once knew. "For what exactly?" I replied, my voice cold. "For now, or for back then?"