Page 19 of The Breaking Point

They had an opening. An “emergent slot,” the woman said. I guess therapists keep those handy, which makes sense. If anyone needs a backup slot, it’s people who listen to other people all day long.

They offer couples counselling, too. But I wasn’t ready for that. I needed to figure out what I wanted first. So I made an individual appointment.

Claudia, the head therapist, was out of town, so I got a Dr. Carl Brett. Definitely a man. I wasn’t sure how to feel about that. I still don’t.

Right now I’m sitting in a small waiting room outside his office. The walls are painted that specific shade of neutral meant to be calming, something between oatmeal and putty and there’s soft instrumental music playing from a speaker I can’t see. A man walks out of the office, probably in his forties, looking slightly dazed. He nods politely at me before heading out.

Then the door opens again, and a new man steps into the waiting area.

He looks... about my age. Which somehow does not help. I don’t know why I expected him to be older. Wiser. Gray-haired, maybe, with glasses and elbow patches. But this guy? He could have easily been someone at a friend’s dinner party or a neighbour who helped move a couch.

“Kate?” he asks.

I nod and jump to my feet like I’ve been caught somewhere I shouldn’t be. He gestures me in, and I follow him into the office.

The room is warm. Not just temperature-wise. The lighting is soft. There’s no desk. Just two armchairs, a small round table with tissues on it, and a brown couch. I sit on the couch because it looks softer. I’m right. It’s so cozy it makes me want to melt straight into it and maybe nap until October.

Dr. Brett settles into one of the armchairs across from me. He doesn’t have a notebook, just a calm, open expression and a slight lean forward, like he’s genuinely paying attention.

“Thanks for coming in today,” he says. His voice is low and even. “You’re here for an individual session. First time in therapy, right?”

I nod. “Yes.”

“Alright. Before we get into anything heavy, I just want to say, this is your space. You don’t have to say anything you’re not ready to. We’ll go at your pace.”

I nod again, but my throat’s tight. There’s a lot I want to say. And none of it feels like it makes sense yet.

“Why don’t we start with what brought you in?” he offers. “There’s no wrong way to begin.”

I swallow hard. “I found out my husband cheated on me.”

He doesn’t flinch or blink or even shift. “Okay. That’s a lot. When did you find out?”

“Our anniversary celebration last night. Ten years.” My voice sounds thin, like it’s been strained through a sieve.

Dr. Brett gives a small nod. “That timing… I imagine that made it even more painful.”

I let out a short, bitter laugh. “Yeah. We were about to take pictures. I was walking out of the restroom feeling all happy and content, then his college roommate, a douche asshole that never liked me, made… this comment and it just stuck.”

He waits, doesn’t rush me.

“I asked Aiden about it later. Confronted him when we were alone. He lied. Of course he did. Looked me straight in the eye and told me it was a lie. But it’s not the first time someone has lied to my face so I.. I told him I already knew.”

Dr. Brett raises an eyebrow slightly. “You didn’t?”

“No. I just bluffed. I wanted to see what he’d say if he thought the game was already over. And he cracked. Told me everything.”

I pause to breathe. The couch seems to shift beneath me, soft and traitorous.

“He slept with someone at his bachelor party,” I finish, voice low.

Silence stretches between us, but it isn’t empty. It gives me room.

“Have you had time to process how you feel about it?” he asks.

I shrug. “No. Not really. I keep... bouncing between anger and numbness. I’m not crying all the time or anything, it’s not like that. But my thoughts won’t settle. It’s like they’re running laps in my head without resting. Sometimes I think… okay, it was a long time ago, maybe I should forgive him. For the kids. For the life we built.”

Dr. Brett nods gently. “And other times?”

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