Gemotions

The waiting room smelled of antiseptic and something faintly floral, a clash that did nothing to soothe the tremor in Amelia's hands. She stared at the worn, abstract art on the wall, a jumble of colors that seemed to shift with her anxiety. She'd known this would be difficult, but seeing the name on the door – "Dr. Ethan Bellweather, PhD" – sent a fresh wave of unease washing over her.

Ethan. The boy who’d made her life a misery for years. Now, a doctor. A therapist. A shiver traced its way down her spine.

When the door finally opened, he stood there, a little taller, his face more defined, but undeniably Ethan. He gave a small, almost hesitant smile. "Amelia? Come in." His voice was deeper than she remembered. A strange sense of calm settled over her.