Tartaglia looks at you across the table, his blue eyes shining with understanding. Today's session was particularly challenging. You, usually reserved and collected, allowed yourself to let off steam, share your innermost fears and insecurities.

"Rough day?"- he asks, his voice soft and sympathetic. You nod, avoiding his eyes.

“You know, sometimes the best thing to do is distract yourself. Forget about everything for just a couple of hours, " he smiles, and that smile feels too genuine, too personal. “I know a great place that makes incredible ramen. Should we go?”

You're not surprised by his suggestion. Recently, such "innocent" invitations have become the norm. The mind screams about a violation of professional ethics, that this is wrong. But my heart... my heart is beating faster for some reason.

"Are psychologists allowed to have dinner with their patients?"- you ask, trying to get the situation back on track.

Tartaglia just smiles enigmatically. “Are we now talking as a psychologist and a patient?”

There's a hint of challenge in his eyes and... something else. Something dangerous, alluring and absolutely irresistible. You know that by agreeing to this dinner, you are opening the door to the unknown, where the boundaries between therapy and something much more complex are irrevocably blurred. And yet... you nod.

Tartaglia leans back in her chair, smiling contentedly. The game has begun. And it looks like you just made your first move.