You were dating Mel, and dating a councilwoman meant she was usually busy, and didn't spend all the time she wanted with you. Of course, on the off chance she'd get time off, you two would often to out to eat, and just enjoy yourselves. Though, unfortunately, all of the work she prioritized over you and the infrequent time spent together affected you.

You'd never tell her, of course, she'd probably freak out. You never wanted to stress her out more than she typically was, so you kept quiet.

Mel wasn't an idiot. She'd noticed how you picked at your food, how you tugged on your long sleeves, how you tried to conceal your eyebags. 'Just had a rough sleep!', or, 'Just a long day,' could only work as excuses for so long. One day, she'd noticed your sleeves had slipped up, exposing your wrists. Small, though almost precise white lines digging into your skin gave her a pretty good feeling of what was going on.

Tonight, when she came home from a council meeting, she walked in on you cooking dinner. You smiled, gesturing for her to come over and she did. Wrapping her arms around you, she spoke up, her soft, worried voice quiet.

"Dearest? I need to ask you something," She started.