Page 82 of Burned By the Broken Doctor

“It's…complicated,” I admit, the words tumbling out in a rush. “She's…great. Funny, smart, passionate about her work…”

My dad chuckles, a warm, knowing sound. “Sounds like you're describing someone you're more than just 'working with,' son.”

I avoid his gaze, staring down at my plate. “It's not that simple,” I mumble.

“Life rarely is,” he says with a sigh. “But sometimes, we make things more complicated than they need to be.”

He falls silent for a moment, then speaks again, his voice gentle. “You know, Liam,” he begins, “the first time I met your mom, there was this…spark. A feeling I couldn't quite explain. It scared the living daylights out of me, too.”

A flicker of surprise shoots through me. My dad, scared? It is a concept I hadn't considered.

“Love,” he continues, a smile gracing his lips, “it can be terrifying. It makes you vulnerable, opens you up to the possibility of great joy, but also…great pain.”

“Exactly!” I exclaim, a touch of desperation in my voice. “That's what I'm scared of, Dad. The pain.”

He leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers. “There's no guarantee in life, son. You could play it safe, avoid love altogether, and still get hurt. But the thing is, the potential for joy, for connection, for something truly beautiful… It makes the risk worth taking, wouldn't you say?”

I think about his words, the image of Emma's tear-streaked face flashing in my mind. Love, with all its potential for heartbreak, is that what I am running from? Is the fear of losing her greater than the joy of having her?

“But what about the consequences?” I counter, my voice barely above a whisper. “What about the kids? They're the ones who get hurt the most when things fall apart.”

The weight of my own childhood, the fractured relationship with my parents, hangs heavy in the air. That is the pain I am so desperately trying to avoid, the pain I never want to inflict on anyone else.

My dad sighs, a flicker of sadness crossing his features. “Look, son,” he says, his voice serious, “what happened between your mom and me… That wasn't because of love. It was because of a lot of other things, things we both messed up.”

He pauses, then continues, his voice softer now. “Love, on its own, isn't a curse. It doesn't have to end in pain. But it does take work, effort, and a willingness to communicate, to compromise. And yes, sometimes, even with all that, things don't work out.”

“But wouldn't it be better to avoid the risk altogether?” I persist, clinging to my fear like a life raft.

He shakes his head. “Maybe in the short term. But in the long run, a life without love… Well, it's a pretty empty existence, son. Believe me, I know.”

“Because you still love mom after all these years?”

He sighs and picks up his fork. “Because I experienced both edges of love’s sword.”

“Love is a scary thing,” I say, almost to myself. “It only leaves a person vulnerable to greater pain.”

Dad chuckles. “True, but a lot of things come with risks. The amazing feeling of love makes the risk worth it.”

“Why?” I ask, genuinely curious.

“It’s powerful to truly love a human being,” he says, his voice soft. “It’s liberating and painful. It’s both sides of a coin.”

“But it’s not just about the lovers,” I argue. “It’s about the consequences that the fruits of that love have to suffer, like I did when you and Mom broke up. Love will never be enough…and that’s why I’d rather avoid putting those I love through the pain that comes after the dopamine called love is gone.”

He looks at me sadly. “Liam, you’re making a mistake.”

I stand abruptly, my chair scraping against the floor. “I’m sorry, Dad. I can’t do this.” I leave the table and storm into my bedroom, falling onto the bed and holding the pillow over my face as my heart races.

The conversation with my dad lingers in my mind. His words echo, but my fear overshadows them. I try to block out the image of Emma’s tear-streaked face, but it keeps coming back, gnawing at me.

Just over a month, and I’m already making her cry.

I toss and turn, the knot in my stomach tightening. I don’t want to hurt her, but I don’t want to hurt myself, either. I’ve seen what love can do—how it can destroy people. My parents’ marriage was a battlefield, and I was the casualty. I can’t put Emma through that. I won’t.

But even as I lie here, trying to convince myself that I’m doing the right thing, a small voice inside me whispers that maybe, just maybe, I’m wrong. That maybe love is worth the risk. That maybe Emma is worth the risk.

I roll over, staring at the ceiling. The ache in my chest won’t go away. I don’t know what to do. All I know is that I miss her already. I miss her smile, her laugh, the way she looks at me like I’m the only person in the world. And I hate myself for pushing her away.

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