He Replaced My Antidepressants with Candy

Three years after I was diagnosed with severe depression, Ethan was the only reason I stayed alive.

He hid every sharp object in our apartment, installed a safety barrier on the balcony, and even left the bathroom door slightly open while I showered.

Take your time, he'd whisper. I'll wait.

Then Sasha came back from overseas.

She had studied psychology. She said Ethan was making me define myself by my illness.

"The more you protect her, the more she'll think something is wrong with her."

Ethan said nothing that night.

The next morning, he took down the balcony barrier.

"The more we avoid something, the scarier it becomes."

He put the knives back in the kitchen.

"You need to learn to live with them."

He stopped checking whether I cried at night.

"You need to deal with your emotions yourself."

Sasha always stood beside him, nodding.

"Exactly. That's the right way."

The day I was crouching in the corner of a mall, struggling to breathe, I heard them talking a few steps ahead.

"Just a little longer," Sasha said. "She's almost better."

"And then?" Ethan asked.

Sasha hooked her little finger around his and smiled.

"Then you'll be free."

That night, I stood on the balcony.

The wind was fierce.

The barrier was gone.

***

##

When the front door unlocked, one of my feet was already dangling over the edge of the balcony.

The wind rushed through the empty space where the safety grates used to be, plastering my nightgown against my shivering legs.

Ethan and Sasha walked in, their laughter cutting through the cold air.

The moment Ethan saw me, his car keys clattered to the floor. His face went dead white in an instant, and he bolted toward me.

Seeing his panic, my body instinctively shrank back a little.

Before, if I stood even slightly close to the balcony, he would wrap his arms around me from behind, his voice trembling as he whispered, "Don't be scared, Elena. I'm right here."

But this time, Sasha grabbed his arm, her grip tight, her voice calm and firm.

"Don't go over there, Ethan. Shes using self-destructive behavior to blackmail you. If you run to her now, you're just reinforcing her manipulative control."

Ethan froze right in front of the glass door.

He stared at me, and the panic in his eyes slowly cooled into something heavy and cold.

Sasha continued, "This is classic borderline manipulation. She knows you're terrified, so she uses herself as a hostage every single time. You have to stop playing into it."

Ethan's Adams apple bobbed.

I stood barefoot on the freezing concrete ledge, my toes completely numb.

Looking at me through the glass door, his voice dropped, flat and exhausted.

"Elena. Look at you. You aren't actually going to jump, are you?"

I froze.

Sasha let out a soft sigh, looking at me like I was a stubborn child who refused to learn.

Ethan draped his coat over his arm, his tone returning to that familiar, painfully restrained coldness.

"Its freezing out there. If you're done putting on a show, get back inside. I'm not playing this game with you anymore."

My fingers slowly slipped off the doorframe.

So, standing here wasn't a cry for help.

It was just "putting on a show."

I slowly stepped back into the living room, my bare feet treading across the icy hardwood floor.

Ethan bent down to pick up his keys and murmured to Sasha, "Youre right. I used to spoil her too much."

Sasha handed him a glass of warm water.

"Youve done enough, Ethan. Even caregivers need boundaries."

At two in the morning, I dragged myself out of bed.

My chest felt like it was crushed under a heavy concrete slab. My temples throbbed violently, and a sharp ringing filled my ears.

I pulled open my nightstand drawer and grabbed the white prescription bottle.

But when I twisted the cap open and poured the contents out, only a handful of brightly colored candies spilled into my palm.

I stared at the candy for a long time, unable to comprehend what I was looking at.

Clutching the bottle, I stumbled into the living room.

Ethan was sitting on the couch, reviewing emails, his face illuminated by the cold blue light of his laptop.

***

##

I held the bottle out to him, my voice raspy and painful.

"Ethan, where are my meds?"

He didn't even look up.

"I swapped them."

I gripped the edge of the sofa, my knuckles turning white.

"My chest hurts. My head is splitting. Please, just give me my medication."

Ethan finally looked up, his brow furrowed in irritation.

"Sasha said your dosage has exceeded the safety limit. You're not treating your illness anymore, Elena. You're just addicted."

Sasha stepped out of the guest bedroom.

"Elena, medication is only a temporary crutch. You have to believe in your own willpower."

Ethan snatched the bottle from my hand, poured one piece of candy back into my palm, and tossed the rest aside.

"Take this. Just get through tonight, and you'll be fine. Stop acting like you're completely helpless."

A sudden wave of intense nausea hit my stomach. I bent over the coffee table, dry-heaving violently.

He stood up, his patience finally snapping.

"I have a meeting early tomorrow morning. Stop making a scene."

I collapsed onto my knees on the rug, my fingers clawing at the edge of the table.

"Ethan, please. I'm begging you."

His footsteps paused.

Sasha whispered a warning, "Ethan, shes testing your boundaries."

Ethans back stiffened. Without another word, he pushed open the master bedroom door.

"Deal with it yourself," he said.

The door clicked shut, and the lock turned.

I lay in the darkness of the living room, listening to my own ragged, suffocating breaths.

I stayed curled up on that rug until the sun came up.

Ethan walked over and tossed a dress onto the coffee table.

Looking down at my shivering body, his voice was cool and detached.

"Change your clothes. Were going to Sashas welcome-back dinner at noon."

I shook my head, unable to form words.

The withdrawal symptoms from suddenly stopping my medication were wrecking my body. Even the faint hum of the elevator outside made my ears ring painfully.

Ethan bent down, grabbed my wrists, and yanked me off the floor.

"Exposure therapy is the only way to get over this. You can't just rot in this apartment forever."

I stumbled, dragged by his grip. A angry red ring quickly formed around my wrist.

"I can't go. Not today," I choked out.

Sasha poked her head out from the hallway, her tone patronizing.

"Elena, running away only makes the fear bigger. You have to show some faith in Ethan."

Ethan looked at her, his expression softening for a brief second.

But when he turned back to me, his grip tightened.

"Just cooperate, Elena. Don't make things difficult for me."

The private dining room at the restaurant was blindingly bright.

A dozen people sat around a large tableall of them friends who had witnessed how devotedly Ethan had cared for me over the past three years.

Seeing me walk in, one of them laughed and joked, "Look who finally decided to join the real world! Ethan, youve really had it rough these past three years."

I sat in the corner, clutching my dress, my chest tightening with every passing second.

Sasha walked over with a glass of warm water and spoke in a voice just loud enough for the entire table to hear.

"Everyone, let's not treat Elena like an invalid. Pity only solidifies her victim mindset. Shes actually doing much better now. Right, Elena?"

A dozen pairs of eyes locked onto me.

I opened my mouth, but only a quiet, pathetic gasp came out.

Ethan sat beside Sasha, tapping his fingers against his glass.

"Say something," he muttered. "Don't expect everyone else to keep covering for you."

Someone chuckled. "Depression isn't a terminal illness, Elena. Honestly, haven't you milked this enough?"

"Seriously. Ethan's life has revolved around you for three years. Anyone would be exhausted."

"Sashas only been back for a week, and shes already got you out of the house. I guess thats what a professional can do."

Their words pierced my ears like needles.

I covered my ears, my body beginning to shake uncontrollably.

Sasha leaned down, placing a gentle but firm hand on my shoulder.

"Look, shes having an avoidance response. Don't worry, Elena, we're all here to help you."

Her perfume drifted over.

It was the exact same scent I had smelled on Ethans collar the night before.

***

##

I jolted upright. My knees slammed into the table, knocking over a glass.

Red wine splashed all over Ethan's white shirt.

The entire room went dead silent.

Ethan looked down at the dark red stain, slowly wiping it with a napkin. The veins on the back of his hands bulged.

Suffocating, I collapsed to the floor, my fingers clawing desperately at the carpet.

"Take me home, Ethan... please, just take me home."

In the past, he would have instantly wrapped his coat around my head and carried me out of the room.

But this time, he only looked down at me with pure, freezing contempt.

"Are you done making a fool of yourself?"

Sasha grabbed his sleeve, whispering gently, "Don't blame her, Ethan. This is just a withdrawal reaction. If you take her home now, all our progress will be ruined."

Ethan closed his eyes, then sat back down.

He picked up his glass, his voice dangerously low.

"Elena. Stand up on your own, and get back in your seat."

I looked up at him.

My vision was blurred with tears, but I could clearly see how closely he and Sasha were sitting.

Sasha handed him another napkin, her fingers lingering on his palm for a few seconds.

He didn't pull away.

I stared at him in utter despair, my tears soaking into the carpet. "What if I can't get up?"

Ethan stared back, his eyes empty of any warmth, filled only with exhausted indifference.

"Then stay down there. Because I am not going to lift a finger to help you."

Someone at the table whispered, "Finally, Ethans growing a spine."

Sasha raised her glass, clinking it gently against Ethans.

"You're doing great, Ethan."

The table erupted into chatter and laughter again. No one cared if I was gasping for air on the floor.

Even Ethan managed a smile.

In that exact moment, the thread that had kept me holding on for three years finally snapped.

My fingers were still dug into the carpet, my fingernails bleeding, but I couldn't feel a thing.

I slowly stood up.

Ethan seemed to let out a sigh of relief.

"See? That wasn't so hard. Stop making everything revolve around you."

I held onto the wall, pushed open the heavy wooden door, and stumbled out into the pouring rain.

Ethan didn't follow me.

The freezing rain soaked my dress within seconds, sending a violent chill up my legs.

With trembling hands, I pulled my phone out of my pocket, desperately wanting to call my therapist, Dr. Harper.

But before I could even dial her number, my vision went pitch black, and a wave of absolute suffocation dragged me under.

When I woke up, Ethan was standing by my bedside with a cup of medicine, looking down at me.

"Acute pneumonia," he said flatly. "You've been burning with a fever for two days."

My hand immediately went to search for my phone.

It was gone.

"Give me my phone," I croaked.

Ethan avoided my gaze.

"Sasha said you spend too much time on your phone, and that you've been secretly contacting your old doctor to ask for psychiatric meds. Thats bad for your desensitization."

"You can't rely on conservative treatments forever. You can't live on pills."

Sasha walked in, holding a clipboard.

"Ive already spoken with Dr. Harper, Elena. Her treatment plan relied too heavily on medication. It's not suitable for your current stage of recovery."

"To prevent any interference with your therapy, I deleted her number from your phone."

Ethan handed me the cup.

"Drink this. And stop looking at her like that."

I didn't reach for it.

Losing the last of his patience, he slammed the cup onto the nightstand.

"You'll get your phone back when you start living like a normal person."

I didn't beg. My eyes were completely hollow.

Uneasy under my empty gaze, Ethan turned and grabbed his coat.

"Get dressed. I'm taking you somewhere."

Half an hour later, we arrived at the basement of an abandoned warehouse.

When the heavy iron door creaked open, the smell of rust and dampness hit my nose.

Under a single dim bulb, a wrecked car sat in the corner.

Its hood was completely smashed, and the windshield was shattered into a spiderweb of cracks.

***

##

My feet glued to the floor.

Three years ago, that exact car had careened toward Ethan.