（转自quora用户Benhur Margoschis）
It was 2013. I was 23 then.
I had a student called Puneet. He was my IELTS student. He had been trying to immigrate to Canada.
During my early years of training, I used to maintain a very professional distance with my clients(students).
I never shared my personal phone number, e-mail ID with them. I never spoke to anyone about anything other than academics. Not even a small-talk outside office hours.
That was me. I was a thorough professional. People respected me for that.
Coming back to Puneet-
He had a weird habit. I observed that he kept coming to my classes even after his course was over. He had registered his IELTS exam a month later. So, I thought he wanted some extra practice before his exam.
I helped him.
Gradually, he began to increase his number of sessions with me. I did not like it much. I helped him, however.
One day, I received a call from an unknown number. I answered the call.
“Hello Ben! Puneet here. How are you?”
I was shocked. I spoke to him for a few minutes. I asked him how he got my number. He said he would not say that.
What irked me was he did not speak anything about academics. He just said he wanted to speak to me.
That sounded weird to me. No student had ever done that.
He did not go over the line. He did not misbehave. He just seemed weird to me. He seemed lost. He wanted to talk to me. I was not up for it.
Maybe I was too young to decipher things.
He continued his classes. I told him to never call me on my personal number.
He nodded in agreement, with a big frown.
He kept coming to meet me in my office to clarify his doubts. However, I noted that only ten or fifteen minutes of the sessions went in his doubt clarifications.
The rest of the time, he just spoke to me about random things. There was nothing off-putting about what he spoke. Nothing unusual or bizarre. Yet, I started hating him for doing that.
He was trying to befriend me for no reason.
One day, I told him sternly “Puneet, you are my client and I, your tutor. There ends our relationship. I do not want you to talk to me about anything else. If you have any other concern, deal with those.”
SNAP.
His face changed abruptly. From a nerdy harmless man, he turned into an angry, deprived, agonized person.
He clenched his fists and dug his nails into his palm. He stood up in a fit of rage. The chair fell down behind him.
He screamed at the top of his lungs “What the hell is WRONG with you? I just want to TALK to you. I am not asking you money. I am not asking you to teach me extra. I just want you to LISTEN to me when I speak. Is THAT hard for you?”
His scream pierced me like a piece of glass. It was cold. It was loud. It was excruciating. Never had I ever heard a scream that loud, that meaningful, that painful.
Tears rolled down his cheek as he yelled. I remained in my chair. Still. I kept looking into his eyes.
I saw pain. I realized something was wrong with him.
Something heavy struck me right in my mind. Something was beyond me, my years.
Before I could conjure up some words to calm him, he sprinted out of the room, kicking down some chairs, and slamming the door.
I could not sleep that night.
The next day.
I received a call from my office. It was the front-office manager.
“Ben, the cops are here. Puneet has killed himself. His body was found along the rail-tracks.’
He had been fighting depression for months.
He wanted someone to talk to. I am not sure if I was the only one he approached.
All I know is I failed him. I learned a lesson too late. Listen to people. You never know what goes in everyone’s life.
Break out of your ego. Nothing matters. When someone is depressed, all they need is someone to talk to.
Just be silent. Listen.
I regret what I did till date! His memories will haunt me until I am dead!