My boyfriend had depression.
Medication and sessions with specialists cost over ten thousand a month.
To help him get better, I took on art commissions and delivered takeout day and night. Even my friends warned me to be careful before I worked myself to death.
Then one day, I managed to grab an errand order from a wealthy villa district.
The high-end Japanese takeout was worth eighteen thousand. I held it with both hands and handed it to the customer with the utmost respect.
But when I lifted my eyes, I saw my boyfriend-who should have been in therapy-standing in the doorway, staring at me in utter shock.