For what seemed like hours, Jiyeon remained motionless, relishing reliving happy moments with her love in her mind. The sound of the key turning in her door shook her out of her reveries. She quickly pulled the blanket over her head, not wanting to see her mother as she still felt anger towards her. Her mother disappointed her again. What she did was for her own sake not for hers. She cared more about maintaining the family's honor than her daughter's true happiness. Jiyeon kept her eyes shut tight, pretending that she was fast asleep when she felt the mattress bounce a bit and the blanket slowly being pulled off.

"Oh, you sleep," the familiar deep soothing voice filled her ear.

Her eyes snapped open to find a middle-aged man with a thin moustache wearing a sleek black suit that hugged his muscular form sitting on the bed beside her. He outstretched his arms, smiling widely, revealing his beautiful dimples, which reminded her of her love. She instantly sat up. "Dad, I've missed you so much," Jiyeon managed to mutter as she hugged him tightly.

"I've missed you, too, my daughter." He tightened his embrace. An overwhelming sense of safety hit her. Her troubles drifted away and all she knew was his arms, his warm embrace and the feeling of being a small child again.

The father-daughter pair only let go of each other after a while. He held his daughter's palm affectionately, his paternal gaze fixed on her face. "Jiyeon, you've grown into such a beautiful young lady...a spitting image of your mom," her father started.

She felt like she knew where the direction of this conversation was heading. Her mother had definitely told him about her relationship with Jaehyun. "When did you get home, Dad?" Jiyeon asked, trying to turn the conversation in a different direction. She didn't want to hear her father lecture her about the teacher-student relationship. She was so sick of it.

"About an hour ago," he replied. A brief silence blanketed them. A serious look gleamed from his eyes as he added, "Your mom told me what happened in school. Are you really serious about that boy? Are you sure it's not a fleeting infatuation?"

Her attempt failed. Jiyeon looked him dead in the eye and said, her voice unwavering, "That boy's name is Jung Jaehyun. I'm one billion percent serious about him. He is perfect for me. He is ready to leave luxury goods his father provides and live in a cabin in the woods with me. Dad, Jaehyun and I don't want to be a part of the materialistic society. We choose freedom over comforts. Will you give your blessing?"

Her father sighed, running his hands over his eyes and down his face. After a moment, he responded, "I'd like to meet Jaehyun and talk to him. I'll decide whether to give my blessing or not after talking to him. Are you okay with that?"

A wave of happiness hit her. With a big smile on her face, she jumped out of the bed and took him by the hand. "Let's go meet him." She pulled him to his feet.

He placed his hands on her shoulders and told her, "We can't go right now."

Her smile turned into a frown. "Why? You want to talk to him in person, don't you?"

"We'll go tomorrow—" He pointed his finger towards her table; a white dress laid on it. "I bought you that dress. Take it and wear it."

Jiyeon shook her head. "I hate dress. Why did you buy me one?"

"I want to see my daughter in a dress. Your mom said you look so beautiful in a dress." Her father smiled. "Jiyeon, go wash your face first and wear that dress. Kim Junmyeon and his mother have been waiting for you."

Jiyeon stood still, her head bowed. She really didn't want to see them, especially Mrs. Kim, the one who had given the recorded voice to the Principal. Perhaps her educational background and the status of being the youngest teacher was the reason why Mrs. Kim got so interested in matchmaking her son with her. She bared her teeth, her lips curling in utter abhorrence at her colleague's intention.

Her father put a hand under her chin and lifted her face. "Don't disappoint your mom again. Put your dress on and meet us in the living room," he said in a rather firm tone before walking away.

"Don't disappoint your mom again? Mom is the one who disappoints me again. First, she kept forcing me to go to a psychiatrist," Jiyeon retorted through gritted teeth. "Now she wants me to marry a therapist, who is a total stranger to me for the sake of maintaining family honor."

He halted in the doorway and turned around to face her. "Jiyeon, I don't like the idea of an arranged marriage. I don't support your mom's decision on this one," her father said. "Junmyeon and his mother took their time to come here, so respect their time. Put your dress on and meet them in the living room, okay?"

Damn you, Mom! You lied when you told me you and Dad have agreed to get me engaged to Junmyeon. Dad actually doesn't agree with your decision. Jiyeon cursed inwardly. Her father's soulful, pleading eyes melted her heart. "Tell them I'll be there in a moment," she replied.

Her father nodded, smiling before he turned back around and continued on his way. A glance at the digital clock on her bedside table told her it was 07:36 p.m. Jiyeon walked over to her table, took the white dress and held it by the shoulders, letting it fall before her. She shook her head in disbelief. The dress looked exactly like the one she wore in her dream during a nap. Then she laughed inwardly, noticing something interesting: her mother had forced her to wear a white dress after dreaming about wearing it, and now her father wanted her to wear a white dress after dreaming about wearing it.

"Jiyeon, enough is enough. Don't fall to the herd mentality and don't do something you don't like just to please others, including your parents," she told herself as she strode over to the bathroom. "Dad, I didn't ask you to buy me a dress." She threw it into the laundry basket then stared at herself in the mirror above the sink. Her face looked puffy. She tied her hair into a ponytail before she turned the tap on. She leaned down and splashed the water on her face several times. She felt refreshed. She quickly turned off the tap and dried her face with a towel.

Jaehyun, we will meet again tomorrow. Jiyeon untied her hair and combed her fingers through it as she stepped out of the bathroom and left her room. Voices from the living room could be heard as she headed downstairs. Mrs. Kim and a young man sat side by side on the couch opposite her parents. Her father stared at her, a look of disappointment blanketing his face as she walked over to him. Jiyeon stood beside him. "Good evening, Mrs. Kim," she greeted, slightly bowing her head.

With her hand on the young man's shoulder, Mrs. Kim said, the pride unmistakable in her voice, "This is my son, Junmyeon. Isn't he handsome?"

She admitted her son was indeed handsome, but it didn't change the fact that she had no interest in him. He was clad in a blue suit that emphasized his broad shoulders and his lean yet muscular body. Jiyeon gave him a slight bow of her head.

Junmyeon rose to his feet and bowed his head. "It's nice to finally meet you. My mother has told a lot about you." His smile lit his face and eyes.

To put it bluntly, it's not nice to meet you. Jiyeon did her best to keep her expression neutral.

"Can I talk to you in private, Jiyeon?" Junmyeon asked politely.

"Sure you can," her mother answered. She looked at Jiyeon and added, "Our study room is a perfect place. Go ahead and take him there."

"Let's go," Jiyeon said curtly and walked towards the stairs. He followed suit.

She had climbed halfway up the stairs when Junmyeon asked, his voice barely audible, "Where did you get your shirt?"

"None of your business," Jiyeon answered, heading towards the study room. She opened the door and walked over to the desk, leaving the door open. She plopped down in the black leather chair.

"Your shirt is exactly the same as the one I gave to someone," Junmyeon said, sitting down in the empty chair in front of her.

God, I don't like this man one bit. He cares so much about a shirt. An exasperated sigh left . "So you want to talk to me in private about this shirt?" Jiyeon raised her voice a notch, touching her shirt sleeve.

"Not really," he replied in a calm voice. "I'm curious to know where you got your shirt. The letters JE embroidered on the tip of the collar is the first letter of my given name and hers."

With a half-suppressed sigh, Jiyeon looked down at her collars and rubbed the "J.E" embroidered on the tip of the right collar. This blue shirt was Jaehyun's sister's. Her given name started with the letter E. The "J.E" could be Jaehyun Eunji. If so, why did she never wear it? Maybe this shirt was a gift from someone, and she didn't like the meaning behind the "J.E".

She propped her elbow on the desk and rested her chin on her fist, staring at him. "Does JE stand for Junmyeon Eunji?" Jiyeon asked.

He nodded, holding her gaze. "I'd appreciate it if you tell me where you got your shirt."

Jiyeon sighed and leaned back in her chair, saying, "This shirt isn't mine. My student lent me this shirt. He said his sister never wore it. His sister's name is Jung Eunji. She is Byun Baekhyun's friend."

Lowering his head, a sad look came over his face. "Eunji, I ordered it specifically for you, why did you never wear it?" Junmyeon's voice dropped to a whisper.

Jiyeon leaned forward, elbows on the table, hands folded together. "Did you date her?"

"I dated her for a few months before she broke up with me."

"Why did she break up with you?"

"She said she needs to focus on her studies, so she doesn't want to continue our relationship."

"Do you still want her back?"

Junmyeon lifted his head and smiled faintly. "I do want her back and I want to marry her."

Jiyeon looked him in the eye without blinking. In an unwavering voice, she spoke, "Then why the hell did you come here? Our parents are trying to get us married. I'm sure Baekhyun has told you about my relationship with my student."

"I wanted to meet you in person." He held her gaze. "Baekhyun did tell me about your relationship with your student. It's quite hard to believe that the student turns out to be Eunji's younger brother. I met him once, and he seemed like an innocent boy."

"What else did he tell you about me?"

Placing his palms on the desk, Junmyeon stood up and leaned in. Jiyeon gulped, leaning back in her chair.

"He told me you don't believe in the existence of mental illness, how you humiliated him in front of your students. If you feel the need to, you may attack psychology as a discipline, not those who study it," he spoke slowly and sternly as if scolding an obstinate child.

Jiyeon let out a peal of laughter, clapping her hands. Junmyeon shook his head, grimacing. Her laughter abruptly ended. She sprang to her feet, slammed her palms down on her desk and leaned forward. They exchanged stern looks.

"So challenging your friend's belief about the "medical model" is considered as an attack against him? Asking scientific evidence to verify the existence of "mental illness" is considered as an attack against "mental health" professionals? If one has to believe in something that is said to be scientific, like psychiatry-psychology, for example, then it is a religion. There is no biological evidence of any of the "mental disorders" or "illnesses" that psychiatrists and psychologists claim people have. Decades of research have failed to demonstrate a specific biological cause of any of the "mental health" diagnoses in the DSM"—Jiyeon blew out a breath—"psych students are not taught to think critically about "diagnoses" or the "medical model" and are instead encouraged to think about psychological issues in terms of "symptoms," "disorders" or "illnesses". How is it a "diagnosis" when someone comes in, saying 'I'm depressed' and the "doctor" says 'the patient has depression'? Name calling is what it is called. Are you capable of thinking about psychological experience without thinking in terms of "symptoms", "disorders" or "illnesses", Mr. Good Therapist? If psychological struggles are not "symptoms", what are they?"

Junmyeon burst out laughing, a sort of annoyed, displeased laugh, which Jiyeon silenced by slapping her palm on the desk. "Are you feeling attacked now?"

He sat back down, took a deep breath and showed a calm expression, saying, "I've never used those terms in my practice. I don't give people diagnostic labels. Use of labels implies a use of "shorthand" in which the person often "becomes" the label. I'm aware that labels often stick, and that once there—even if they prove to be inaccurate—they are hard to eradicate. Labels leave a legacy. Mostly what I do is just patiently listen to and understand what people are going through. I let them express their feelings and problems. I don't criticize, stigmatize, or cut them off. We connect as equals. I promise no false, magical solutions, and I don't pressure them to change to conform to society."

Jiyeon nodded, agreeing with his view on labels. "People have to pay you to listen to them," she bluntly remarked.

Junmyeon still appeared calm. "I'm in business. I need to pay the bills and pay off college debt. Just like you, I'm working to earn a living."

What makes people choose to see a therapist instead of talking with a close friend or relative? Is it because therapists are professionals, who claim to possess special problem-solving skills and insight into another human being's conscious experience? I would rather talk to someone that I have known for a while and if I want to talk to a complete stranger, I can do that for free. Learning self-control is much better than going to "therapy". "Therapy" is a deceptive term that implies a medical model and some form of biological healing. The effectiveness and efficacy in CBT world is short-term "symptom reduction" based on a statistical measure. Jiyeon took a deep breath and plopped back down in her chair.

"If a man comes to you and tells you he is suicidal due to financial hardships, will he still be charged?" she quizzed him. "What solutions will you offer him?"

"I won't charge him," Junmyeon replied without hesitation. "I'll direct him to resources on how he can find a job."

"When was the last time you saw a therapist donating money to a man who is suicidal due to economic hardships so he could start a business?"

"I've never seen one." Junmyeon exhaled. "The therapist will offer him psychotherapy, diagnose him with severe depression and put him on antidepressants."

"Useless psychotherapy—" Jiyeon gave him a stern look and resumed slowly and deliberately, "Suicidality is a potential side effect of antidepressants. It's insane to put a suicidal man on drugs that increase risk of suicidal ideation. If he commits suicide, an evil disease called depression caused by a "chemical imbalance" in his brain will be blamed, correct?"

"Yes, probably," he replied in an undertone, his eyes downcast. "Depression is always connected to suicide."

"The justification for drugging people is the "chemical imbalance" theory or one of its biological cousins. The dogmatic belief that some people have "SMI or Bad Biology" is at the core of what is wrong with the "mental health" system, because it allows those in power to ignore oppression, poverty, violence, bullying, racism and professional hubris as causal factors. To call normal human responses to trauma and difficulty a pathology is dehumanizing," Jiyeon said, her words hissing out from between clenched teeth. The injustice fuelled her anger. Her chest rose and fell with each angry breath.

Junmyeon said nothing and kept his eyes downcast. Jiyeon drew a few deep breaths, working to calm herself down. Then she cleared , and he looked at her.

"I wasn't angry at you," Jiyeon continued speaking in a rather calm voice. "There is nothing wrong with people lending a hand or a kind, listening ear. I commend you for this. But there is a difference between listening to people and talking with them and getting paid to do so…" her voice trailed off into silence as she heard the sound of a phone ringing.

Junmyeon mouthed 'sorry' as he reached into his suit pocket, pulled out his cell phone and looked at the screen. Frowning, he hit a button and raised it to his ear. "Hello?"

Not wanting to disturb him, Jiyeon rose to her feet and left the study room, heading to her room. She stepped in and went to her closet. She quickly took off the shirt, picked out a plain white T-shirt and wore it. "I wouldn't have worn this shirt if I knew it was a gift from a therapist," she murmured as she went back to the study room, carrying the shirt.

Junmyeon was standing in front of one of her bookshelves when she entered. Jiyeon quietly approached him as he scanned the titles, the spines of each book. She gave him a tap on the shoulder, and he turned around.

"Take this." She handed him the shirt. He just looked at it.

"Take this," Jiyeon repeated. "This shirt is so special, right?"

Junmyeon took it, saying, "You have a collection of psychology books—"

"That isn't mine but my dad's. There's nothing else I want to talk about. You said you want to marry Eunji, so go ahead and propose her. I'm not going to you down the stairs." Finished talking, Jiyeon walked out of the study room, leaving him standing there dumbfounded, heading back to her room. She stepped in, closing the door behind her.

Jaehyun, the therapist who is chosen as my perfect match, once dated your sister. He still wants her back. He wants to marry her. That means the arranged marriage is cancelled! Her heart bloomed. She grinned from ear to ear as she strode over to the bed and lay down. I can't wait for tomorrow. Jiyeon hugged her bolster pillow and closed her eyes, imaging that she was hugging Jaehyun, her love. She eventually drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep.