She opens her wardrobe. Two dozen dresses— red, yellow, orange, pink, and you-name-it— are hanging there. After a cursory glance, she bangs the door shut.
“Mom, I have nothing to wear for the party,” she whines. “I’ve been begging you to take me shopping for ages— you never listen to me! What do I do now?”
He’s rummaging in the fridge for the fourth time. Pizza, chocolate, ice-cream, fruits, and juices are stuffed inside. He closes the door despondently and leaves the kitchen, saying, “There’s nothing much to eat in here. Let’s go to the café and get some decent food.”
She wakes up with the same feelings of depression and dread that she’s been experiencing every morning. Thoughts of suicide are again floating in her mind. She’s married to a handsome man and has two lovely kids, a home, and a car— everything most women would ask for. Apparently, life is perfect, but something is missing; she’s just not married to the man of her dreams.