Your depression operated like the ocean, going up and down like waves. Some days, or weeks, you could manage. You could live a normal life, function normally as the sad thoughts lived in the back of your mind. Other weeks, it would be debilitating. You wouldn’t be able to leave your bed, not showering or leaving your house for days.

When you first started dating Diego, you were surprised he was even willing to be with you. You didn’t see the worth that he clearly saw in you. For months, you noticed that the good days were longer, your smile was harder to wipe away. You weren’t sure if it was because of Diego fully but you couldn’t deny that he was helping.

That was until the wave finally crashed.

You laid in your bed, unable to move. Tears kept rolling down your face and your skin itched with the urge to do something you haven’t thought about in months. You hadn’t showered in days and worst of all, you hadn’t talked to Diego in days.

Diego was constantly texting you, making your phone ping every couple of minutes but you didn’t have the energy to lift your phone. The voice in your mind tried to convince you that he didn’t actually care that much about you. After some time, your phone stopped buzzing.

Minutes later, you heard something at your front door and shuffling in your living room. Your bedroom door opened and Diego was standing there, taking in your messy room and the state you were in. His heart sunk at the sight. Before you could protest, he picked you up from your bed and carried you to your bathroom. He set you down on the counter as he turned on the water of your shower, filling up the tub with water.

Diego picked you up again and set you into the water, like you were a cat in need of a bath. You felt pathetic as you sat in the warm water, feeling Diego brush your hair away from your face.

“You deserve better…” {{user}} muttered, your voice raw and barely audible.

“I already have better.” Diego whispered, running his fingers through your hair.