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Where does a person go when they start to question their own sanity?

Is there any person in this whole world who will understand the turmoil happening inside me? I have so much to tell yet I have none. I am lost somewhere between right and wrong.

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I cannot look at him without hearing his voice in my mind. Why? I have no answers. No matter how much I try to keep it away it just comes back. I have known him for so long but have never felt something like that before so why now? Is it because deep down I know that I am sick and probably cannot be cured? What's my disease anyway?

Or is it all inside my damn head?

There are voices in my head and among all the voices only his affects me in a way I cannot even explain myself.

I stare at him, my breath getting heavier but he only smiles at me. A friendly smile. Something so familiar and casual between us.

It's just me and my thoughts, nothing else.

"Good night" I say to him, forcing myself to smile.

He looks at me, the expression on his face hard to read in the dim light. There's a moment of hesitation before he nods, his eyes still focused on me. "Good night" he says softly, his voice carrying the same familiar warmth.

I feel a strange mixture of comfort and discomfort at the sight of him, and I find myself once again replaying the events of the night in my mind.

I walk into the building, the sound of my footsteps echoing in the empty lobby. The words of Mingyu's mother linger in my mind, a constant reminder of the pain and hurt I feel. I take a deep breath, trying to push the thoughts away and focus on the present.

I make my way to the elevator and press the button, waiting for the doors to open. As I stand there, I try to distract myself by counting the dings, but the numbers just blur together. All I can think about is the way Mingyu looked at me earlier and how it made me feel.

The elevator doors finally open, jolting me out of my thoughts. I step inside, the elevator lights flashing as I press the button for my floor. I can't shake the feeling that something has shifted between us.

I lean against the elevator wall, the cool metal a contrast to the warmth in my cheeks. I close my eyes and take another deep breath, trying to calm the rapid pace of my heart. I feel like I'm on the verge of something, like there's a secret hidden in plain sight, but I can't quite grasp it.

The elevator comes to a stop and the doors open with a soft ding, the sound bringing me back to reality. I step out into the hallway, the familiar surroundings doing little to soothe my nerves. I make my way to my apartment, fumbling with the keys in my hands, wishing that I could shake off the unease that has settled over me.

As I step inside the dark apartment, the familiar scent of the room fills my nose, but before I can even turn on the lights I'm surprised by a pair of strong arms wrapping around me. I gasp involuntarily but don't pull away.

I can feel Mingyu's body pressed against mine, his arms encircling me in a tight embrace. I can feel his warm breath on my neck, his chin resting on my shoulder. My heart races in my chest, his proximity making my body tingle with a mix of excitement and anxiety.

I can feel the tension in his body, his arms tightening around me even more, as if he's afraid I'll slip away if he lets go. He buries his face in my hair, inhaling deeply, as if trying to memorize the scent. "I was worried sick" he whispers, his voice thick with relief.

His words take me by surprise, the vulnerability in his voice making my heart skip a beat. I can feel the tension in his body, the way he's holding onto me like he's afraid to let go. "I am sorry" I say.

His arms loosen but never fully let go. His dark eyes meet mine, and I can see the concern etched on his face. "Where were you?" he asks, his voice soft but firm.

"I just needed to clear my head," I reply softly, my words hesitant and cautious. I can feel the weight of his gaze on me, his eyes searching my face for any signs of deceit.

"At a bar?" He raises his brows.

I hesitate, feeling the weight of his gaze on me. "Yes" I say softly, the word hanging between us like a confession. There's no point in hiding when he already knew the truth.

He takes a deep breath, the disappointment and irritation palpable in his expression. "Why were you at a bar so late at night?" he asks, his voice low and cold.

"I needed a drink," I replied, my voice flat and emotionless. "I just needed some time to clear my head."

He takes a step closer to me, his gaze still locked on mine. "You could've done that at home," he says, his voice sharp and accusatory. "You didn't have to go out and get drunk".

"I am tired Mingyu" I sigh and try to walk past him.

He blocks my path, reaching out to grip my arm as I try to move past him. "No, we need to talk" he says firmly, his hand tightening around my arm, preventing me from moving forward.

I look at him, annoyance sparking in my eyes. "Mingyu, please, I'm tired" I say, trying to pull my arm free from his grip but he only holds on tighter.

He looks at me, his expression determined. "I don't care if you're tired, we need to talk" he repeats, his grip on my arm unyielding.

"Talk about what?" I cannot believe we are doing this right now.

He holds my gaze, his expression serious. "Why were you at a bar so late at night?" he repeats, his tone now filled with concern.

I shake my head, irritation building within me. "I already told you, I needed a drink" I say, trying to yank my arm out of his grip. "I just needed a break from everything... from your mother, from you".

His grip on my arm tightens as I mention his mother, a look of shock and hurt crossing his face. "What do you mean 'from my mother, from me'?" he asks, his voice taking on a tinge of desperation "you know I tried to defend you".

"I know" I say softly, meeting his gaze with a

mix of resignation and frustration. "But it's not enough Mingyu. You saw how she treats me, no matter what I do she's never happy. I have tried enough and you know that too".

His expression softens slightly, a hint of guilt creeping into his eyes. "I know how she treats you" he says softly, releasing my arm and reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair out of my face.

I look up at him, caught off guard by the tenderness in his gesture. I can see the guilt etched on his face, the weight of his mother's treatment of me weighing heavily on him. "I've seen how hard you've tried, and I've seen how much it's hurt you."

"You don't deserve to be treated like that" he says softly, his expression filled with a mix of guilt and protectiveness.

I feel a mix of frustration and gratitude at his words, a part of me wanting to believe him, but a part of me still holding onto the pain and hurt from his mother's treatment. But for a moment, I allow myself to lean into his touch, seeking the reassurance that only he can provide.

"She's just mad that you don't listen to her" He says and I frown.

I feel a wave of frustration wash over me as he speaks, his words echoing the same sentiment his mother always expresses. "I've tried" I say, my voice tinged with annoyance. "I've tried to listen to her, to please her, but it never seems to be enough. She has a problem with everything I do. She doesn't like that we don't live with her, she doesn't like that I work and she hates that you married me".

He hangs his head, a look of shame on his face. "I know" he says softly, his hand leaving my cheek as he runs his fingers through his hair, sighing heavily. "She's always been overly critical of you. I've tried to talk to her, to make her see how much you mean to me... but she just doesn't listen"

I feel a surge of anger as the words leave my mouth, my frustration bubbling to the surface. "Exactly" I say firmly, my voice tinged with irritation "it's not my problem. It's not my fault that she's never happy with me, no matter how hard I try to please her" I square my shoulders, my tone firm and resolute as I say "I don't need to change myself just to please her. I am done trying to meet her impossible standards".

He looks at me, his expression unreadable, the tension between us palpable. "I know" he says softly, his voice tinged with sadness. "I don't want you to change who you are just to please her. But I also don't want you to be hurt by her words"

"I know it's hard" he says, taking a step closer to me, his eyes locked on mine.

I feel a mix of emotions - relief, gratitude and something else I can't quite identify when he says that. "I don't want to keep enduring it either" I say softly, my voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability. Suddenly I felt the weight of everything wash over me - the constant comparisons, the constant belittling, the never-ending criticisms, the subtle jabs at everything I did. I was tired of feeling like I was never good enough.

I look at him, the weight of my emotions bubbling up inside me. "I feel like I can't do anything right" I say softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

"That's not true" he says firmly, his eyes fixed on me. "You're doing your best. Don't let her make you feel like you're not enough".

I can feel a lump rising in my throat at his words, my body tensing up as I struggle to keep my emotions in check. "It's hard" I whisper, my voice catching. "All she sees are my failures, she never acknowledges my accomplishments".

He reaches out, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder, his touch gentle yet firm. "I see them" he says softly, his voice tinged with determination. "Your hard work, your dedication, your strength. You've achieved so much, and you're still trying to make her proud... but you don't need her approval".

But the reality is I do. I still do, because no matter how much I try to ignore it she's a part of my life which will always come back to haunt me, over and over again.

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