The Price of Peace (and a Good Wi-Fi Signal)

Lucas and Priya were the kind of couple who could sit in silence for hours and still feel connected. Both introverts, both lovers of books over bars, and both slightly allergic to confrontation. Their relationship had always felt safe, grounded, and calm—but over the past few months, that calm had begun to feel more like distance.

Conversations turned into half-finished thoughts. Tensions were brushed under the rug. Even their signature quiet moments, once cozy, had started to feel like avoidance.

“I think we should talk to someone,” Priya said one evening, her voice barely louder than the boiling kettle.

Lucas looked up from his book. “Like… a therapist?”

“Yeah. I don’t want us to lose what we have.”

Lucas nodded slowly. “Okay. But definitely online. In-person therapy sounds like a nightmare.”

And so began their search. Like any modern couple, they started with Google. Instantly, they were met with hundreds of therapy websites, pop-ups, and paid ads. Names like BetterHelp, Talkspace, and Amwell showed up again and again. But with them came the high price tags.

“This one’s $90 per session,” Lucas said, scrolling. “And this one is $85 a week, billed monthly.”

Priya raised an eyebrow. “That’s half our rent if we go every week.”

“Here’s one—$120 per session,” Lucas said, deadpan. “Unless the therapist is including a bottle of wine and a Spotify playlist, that feels steep.”

They laughed, but both felt the stress creeping in. They weren’t against paying for therapy—it was just hard to justify when groceries, bills, and rent already left little wiggle room.

Priya looked into local therapists who offered sliding scale pricing. Most were fully booked. Others had waitlists that stretched into the next season.

Just when they were about to give up and settle for journaling separately in opposite corners of the room, Priya stumbled across something new.

She felt a spark of hope, as if they had finally found something that could actually work for them.

“Hey,” she said, holding up her phone, “this site’s called MindEngage.com. Sessions start at $39. Licensed therapists. Zoom calls. No subscriptions or weird add-ons.”

Lucas blinked. “So we’d actually do a 45-minute video call with a real person for that price?”

“Yep. And we can schedule it when we’re both free—no commuting, no awkward waiting rooms.”

Lucas hesitated. “That’s a long time to be on Zoom.”

“We already survived four awkward Zoom weddings and two chaotic family game nights,” Priya said with a smile. “This will be a breeze in comparison.”

They signed up that night and booked their first online session. They even lit a candle and made tea, hoping to ease the nerves.

Their therapist, Sid, was calm, kind, and gently guided them through the process. There was no pressure to overshare or perform. Just space to talk, listen, and reflect.

The session lasted just under an hour. And afterward, something shifted.

Lucas leaned back in his chair and let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “That wasn’t so bad. I actually… feel much better.”

“Same,” Priya said. “It’s weird. We said more in that session than we’ve said all week.”

Lucas raised his tea mug. “Here’s to affordable mental health and good Wi-Fi.”

Priya clinked her mug against his. “And to us, actually talking again.”

For the first time in weeks, the silence between them felt comforting again. Not heavy. Not awkward. Just peaceful. Therapy hadn’t changed everything overnight—but it gave them a place to start. And at $39 a session, it felt manageable. Not just financially, but emotionally too.

It was quiet progress—just the way they liked it.