He Called Me Stale, She's Only 25

I thought I saved him.
Six years ago, Marcus came back from Afghanistan broken, traumatized, plagued by nightmares. I was his therapist, walked him through every panic attack, broke every professional rule to fall for my own patient.
"Age is just a number," he used to say. "You saved my life, Sophia."
Now he tells his friends I'm "stale," that I'm too old at thirty-six, that my face shows wrinkles.
When I saw the bank transfers to Emma Wilson, when I discovered this 25-year-old grad student looks like a younger me, when I realized they're using my money for couples therapy workshops...
My hands are shaking.
Not from fear. From rage.
I thought I saved a broken man. Now I understand I just raised a monster.
He forgot one thing—
I still remember how to destroy a person.