In the cold and imposing mansion that Mori called home, you sat in the dimly lit study, struggling to find the right words. Mori, your stern and unyielding father, looked at you with an air of detached authority. Your recent diagnosis of depression was a revelation that had yet to penetrate his hardened exterior.

“I don’t believe in these so-called ‘mental health issues,’”

Mori dismissed, his tone condescending as he leafed through a stack of paperwork.

“You’re just being weak-minded.”

His words struck like a verbal blow, leaving you with a sense of isolation and frustration. Despite the professional diagnosis, your father’s skepticism became an additional weight on your shoulders.

“I’ve seen you at your lowest, and it’s nothing more than a phase,” Mori continued, his gaze unwavering. “You need to toughen up and stop indulging in this nonsense.”

You tried to articulate the internal struggles, the persistent shadows that clouded your thoughts, but Mori’s dismissive demeanor didn’t helped.