The Day I Accidentally Became My School’s Therapist

It all began during recess, when I offered Haris a piece of gum.

That’s it. That’s how my life changed.

Haris took the gum like it was a sacred offering, sat next to me on the bench, sighed like a 40-year-old uncle, and said:

“Bro… I think Areeba is ignoring me on purpose.”

I blinked. “Okay?”

“She left me on ‘seen’ three times this week. But she was online. Online, bro.”

I nodded slowly, unsure of what to say, but somehow that made him keep going. The next thing I knew, he was telling me about his love life, his GPA, his mom’s obsession with making karelay every Monday, and how he sometimes cries while watching Turkish dramas.

I just kept chewing gum.

The next day, another classmate joined me on the bench.

“Are you the guy who listens?” he asked.

“Uh… sure?”

He sat down and immediately started talking about his fear of growing up. He was fourteen.

By Thursday, I had a line of people.

No joke—three girls, two boys, and a teacher’s assistant all took turns unloading their stress on me like I was a walking diary with good chewing habits.

Soon, people started calling me "Sir Therapist".

Someone even made a booking system on a piece of torn math paper. I still have it.

One session during chemistry class was literally whispered over a Bunsen burner.

“I think I’m addicted to scrolling Reels.” “That’s normal.” “For five hours a night?” “...Okay, that’s a little toxic.”

At one point, our school counselor walked by, saw me surrounded by four people all talking at once, and said, “Should I be worried?”

I shrugged. “They trust me. I give free gum.”

She laughed.

I didn’t.

By the second week, I had unlocked secrets.

Zoya was secretly dating a guy two years older.

Daniyal was failing math but didn’t want to tell his dad.

Hiba had an entire fake Instagram account just to stalk people who unfollowed her.

And apparently, Mr. Imran, the history teacher, has a crush on the English teacher, Miss Sana.

I didn’t ask. But information kept coming in like I was Google search with a face.

It was fun... until it wasn’t.

One day, Areeba—yes, the Areeba—sat next to me.

I offered her gum. She took it. I braced for drama.

“So, Haris thinks I’m ignoring him,” she said casually.

I almost choked on my gum. “Wait. You know?”

“Of course I know,” she said, laughing. “I’m ignoring him on purpose. He’s dramatic. He called me ‘his moonlight’ in front of the canteen guy.”

I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or start billing people for emotional labor.

The worst part?

I became emotionally invested.

I started worrying if Daniyal would pass his math retake. I hoped Zoya’s mom wouldn’t find her secret phone. I even started mentally rating everyone’s problems from “mild panic” to “Netflix-worthy breakdown.”

Then, one day, everything crashed.

It was Monday morning. Rainy. Cold. The kind of weather where everyone’s mood is automatically at Level: Existential Crisis.

I walked in, chewing my signature gum.

And I saw it.

A line of people.

Waiting.

For me.

I froze.

And that’s when I snapped.

I stood on a bench, raised my arms like a disappointed prophet, and yelled:

“I am not your therapist! I’m a student! I have my own problems! My internet’s been slow for three days and my cat ignores me like Areeba ignores Haris!”

Silence.

Then, applause.

Real, actual applause.

Someone yelled, “LET HIM REST!”

Another kid passed me a chocolate bar in solidarity.

I took a week off from bench therapy.

During that week, nobody approached me. Not even for gum. I was free… and weirdly, a little sad.

Then, Friday rolled around.

I was sitting alone, unwrapping a fresh piece of gum.

Haris walked by. He didn’t say anything.

Just gave me a nod.

I nodded back.

He sat down.

After a moment, he said, “So… I think I’m over Areeba.”

I smiled and passed him a piece of gum.

THE END