"Jinah... Can we talk about something?"

It was four in the afternoon and Jinah had just come back from work. Over the past few weeks, she felt happier. The dark shadows beneath her eyes disappeared and the deep sinking in her chest grew into a dull ache, not an overwhelming sensation that shackled her to the floor of her own home.

Her relationship with Youngjun changed significantly. She was more open with him now even though there were times he still didn't fully understand how she was feeling. He even called her by her real name now instead of her nickname. That was a big step in their relationship. Only Youngjun was allowed to call her by her real name.

In the beginning, she had to admit, he was a bit smothering. Youngjun would act overly cautious around her, tip-toeing around his words and actions as if not to prod at a weak spot of hers. Then he would constantly ask how she was feeling and if she was okay. Then there was that word. Okay. At some point or another, the word okay became a "trigger word". 

For some odd reason, Youngjun started to believe that if he asked how she was feeling and she said "okay", she wasn't okay. Well, maybe it wasn't so odd. She would snap at him if he ever crossed a certain line of being overly doting of her and lock herself in her room for a few hours until she was calm enough. Then she would apologize to her boyfriend and thank him for trying, even if it was starting to annoy her.

From that point on, Youngjun recognized the little signs that meant that Jinah just wanted a little space to recharge. Little signs like the irritated, high-pitched sighs, the staring off into space, and even the certain books she would read.

"Is something wrong, Youngjun?" Jinah set down her purse and set her jacket on the back of a chair in their bedroom.

Youngjun motioned for her to sit on the bed. Once she sat down, Youngjun knelt on the ground and took her hands in his.

"Jinah... I've been thinking... Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea for you to start seeing a therapist?"

At the word therapist, Jinah's body tensed and a strange new type of anger flooded her body. She shoved Youngjun's hands away. "No."

"Jinah..." Youngjun called her name softly and held her hands again. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about. I just feel like talking to someone who doesn't know anything about you will help you get some things off your chest. Plus, they're professionals who deal with this kind of thing all the time. They know what they're talking about. I know there are things you don't tell me. And I know there are things I don't understand. Please... Let's just give this a try."

By the time Youngjun's thorough explanation ended, Jinah was already crying angry tears.

"No," this time she said more adamantly.

"Jinah... Please, at least give this some thought..."

"Youngjun, I said no!"

At her exclamation, Youngjun rose from the ground and pulled Jinah into a tight embrace. She thrashed about and yelled in defiance, tears flowing down her cheeks in streams.

"Don't, don't. Please don't. I don't want to do this," Jinah begged. The way she sounded so broken and exposed broke Youngjun's heart.

He her hair and rocked her gently in his arms. "But Jinah... They're professionals..."

"I don't want a professional!" she cried out and buried her head in his chest. "I want you..."

A patch of warmth grew in Youngjun's heart, forming a soft smile on his lips. "Alright... If that's what you want, we don't have to see a therapist. But that means we need to be open with each other. Okay?"

Jinah nodded and wiped the tears from her cheeks, eyeliner and mascara thoroughly smudged.

Youngjun cupped her face in his hands and brought their gazes together. "Promise?"

Jinah nodded. "I promise..." she whispered.

That night, while Jinah was asleep, curled up next to him, Youngjun pulled out his laptop and began doing his research. He would never be an expert in what Jinah was dealing with. Not even remotely close. But that didn't mean he couldn't try to understand how his girlfriend was feeling, even if it was just a little bit.

Youngjun stumbled upon and article from the Huffington Post titled "Loving Someone With Depression". He read through the list of things this woman named Hope learned about loving someone with depression when his eyes caught number three.

You can't "fix" them, the heading read.

The detailed explanation following beneath made Youngjun's heart twist in shame and embarrassment. He didn't fully comprehend that his constant, doting actions might have made Jinah feel worse instead of better. At least, until he read this article.

"I'm sorry, Jinah," Youngjun silently apologized as he her hair gently. "I'm sorry if I hurt you while trying to help you. I know that I won't be able to fix you. But the least I can do is look after you. I'm right here, Jinah. I'll be right here when you need me, love."