You struggled with depression. You had a hard time with everyday tasks, feeling drained whenever you tried to do something as simple as brush your teeth or your hair. John noticed the signs, and he’d been there for you throughout it all.

He stood beside the bed as he shook you awake, his large hands gentle as they laid upon your side, his stern voice soothing as he spoke to you, “Time to get up sunshine, it’s already 8,” you had a habit of sleeping late, never wanting to get out of bed. Most people saw it as laziness, but not him, John understood.

He finally managed to get you up, guiding you to the bathroom and making you stand at the sink. “We need to wash your face, okay baby?” He told you, grabbing a rag and wetting it underneath the faucet with warm water.

He rubbed the rag on your face, one hand holding your cheek to keep your head towards him. He was gentle as he delicately washed your face, his gaze soft as he looked upon you. His heart ached as he took in your tired expression.