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“Well, yes.” Isn’t that how it works? Why would anyone who’s happy go to therapy?
Her eyes drop to her lap. “Everyone has bad times. And for me, I—there—” She lets out a heavy breath.
Zahra feeling distraught? That’s new.
“About two years ago, I fell into a deep depression.” She stares down at her hands.
I blink. “What?”
Her cheeks flush. “It’s true. I didn’t know it at the time, but Claire was the one who officially told me I needed to get help. She even helped me search for a therapist and told me to try to talk to someone about how I felt.”
“I—I don’t know what to say.”
She sniffles. “I don’t even know why I’m crying right now.” She furiously wipes her damp cheeks.
I swipe away a tear she missed.
“I know I’m in a better place. But…God. When Lance broke my heart, I could hardly get out of bed. I used up all my vacation days for the year because I wasn’t sleeping much and it felt like a chore to even get up. It was like I was going through the motions of life but not really living. Barely even eating. And the thoughts—” Her voice cracks, and I swear I feel it like a punch to the heart. “I hated myself so much. For months, I blamed myself. Because what kind of stupid woman wouldn’t realize a man was cheating on her? I felt pathetic and used.”
“You’re many amazing things, and pathetic isn’t one of them.” My blood heats at the idea of her thinking anything bad about herself.
She sniffs again. “I know that now. But at the time, I felt so weak because nothing I did could stop this feeling of hopelessness that took over. I tried. God, I really did because I never knew what it was like to be anything but happy. But the harder I tried to put on a face, the worse things got. I eventually hit a scary point where I wondered if life was worth it.” She looks down at her trembling hands. “I—I never thought I would be the kind of person who thought I might be better off gone. I’m ashamed I ever even considered it.”
I’m tempted to find Lance and pummel his face to match a fraction of the hurt Zahra went through because someone as sweet as her wouldn’t need a semicolon pin if it wasn’t for him.
“This is me now. But who I was before, when everything happened—I was a broken shell. I forgot to believe in myself when it mattered most.”
The hurt in her voice chokes me, making every breath difficult. Her eyes, always expressive, show every ounce of pain she’s felt because of that asshole.
I crawl over to her side of the table and pull her into my lap. She buries her face into my shirt, fisting the material of it as if she needs to hold on.
I’ve felt many different things in my life, but Zahra seeking comfort from me brings out something in me I can’t pin down. It makes me feel needed. Protective. Vindictive toward anyone who hurts her.
I really like her. Our relationship is slowly evolving from something casual into something more, and I’m not entirely against it.
I tug her tight against my chest.
“Claire was the one who started my pin collection after my very first therapy session. She bought me an Iggy the Alien one she found on Etsy, but instead of him holding up his three fingers in peace, he was flipping everyone off. It was a symbolicfuck youto Lance.”
I shake my head with a smile. “That’s illegal trademark infringement.”
“Sue me.” She grins.
I smile back. “How did you go from one pin to a whole backpack covered in them?”
“Claire made it her mission to find me the most outrageous pins each week. Every time I came back from my weekly session, she would unveil it. Now she gets me two a year, one for my birthday and one for Christmas.”
“She’s a good friend.”
“The best kind. I’m lucky to have her in my life. As a roommate and a best friend.”
I squeeze her closer as if it could alleviate some of the pain. “But now you’re better?” I try to hide the concern in my voice, but some of it shines through.
She nods. “Definitely.”
“For what it’s worth, he never deserved you.”
And you do?
