"Have you been taking your medication on time?"

"I think your mental state has improved a lot compared to before."

The hospital on Wednesday was bathed in sunlight filtering through thin windows, casting a soft glow on the old desk in the doctor's office. The doctor stared at me through his glasses.

"Miss Jones, are you getting married?"

"Aren't you planning to tell your husband... about your condition?"

The diagnosis on the medical record in front of me read "Depression."

Severe depression, it seemed, had started in middle school. My father always said I was spoiled, only good at wasting family money.

At first, it was mild, but over the...