I had accepted that appointment with much reluctance, a Saturday evening. My workdays normally extended to late in the evening and this marriage counsellor worked on Saturday evenings, that was one major deciding factor in choosing her over other better-known ones. My wife was equally reluctant about seeing anyone, anyway. I waited nervously in the waiting room, thumbing through old, dog-eared magazines over and over again. Mrs. Kapoor seemed quite meticulous in her work since she was giving a patient hearing to the client before me. We could hear the agitated client’s muffled voice, but not a word of Mrs. Kapoor. Then the receptionist signalled to me and I got up. Knocking on her door politely, I opened the door and froze. Mrs. Kapoor was none other than my ex, one of the major reasons for seeking this counselling.
“It’s alright,” she said, “I am a professional.”
I sank in the chair opposite her and sat speechlessly staring at the table between us.
Conflict of interest! This main character needs to get the heck out of there. Nice surprise though. I didn’t see that coming at all.
That was a surprise, not predictable at all.