Photo by Valentina Paschetto on Unsplash
The Most Selfish Thing We Can Do to a Partner Is Saying We're Fine
M. Zakyuddin Munziri
@zakiego
Originally written in Bahasa Indonesia.
Not every day will the sky be clear. Sometimes it broods, dark and heavy. At other times, it pours rain without warning.
So it is with us. Not every day we are happy. Some days feel longer than they should. The chest tighter. The shoulders heavier.
And yet, in front of our partner, we often choose the same answer.
When asked, “How was your day today?”
Breathing in slowly, on the other end of the phone, we reply, “Fine.”
Even when we’re not.
Saying “I’m fine” is often taken as a sign of maturity. As proof that we are strong. That we can take care of ourselves.
And yes, there are moments when pretending is necessary.
But in a relationship, constant pretending slowly becomes distance.
Because without realizing it, we are closing a door.
A door for our partner to enter our world. To know what we feel. To be present—not as a spectator, but as part of our life.
Two people who share a relationship, of course, love each other. Like the classic line, they want to “complete” one another.
But let’s pause on that word: “complete.”
When we say “we complete each other,” the flow is simple:
- I bring my shortcomings
- You bring yours
- And together we cover the gaps
The problem begins when we present ourselves as if we have no gaps at all.
When we always look strong. Always fine. Always capable.
Without noticing, we take away one important role from our partner: the role of showing up and completing the story with us.
Honesty about our weakness is never easy. Admitting that we are tired, afraid, or fragile can feel like exposing our own shame.
But that is exactly where intimacy grows.
When we dare to say, “I’m not okay,” we are offering trust. We are saying, “I feel safe with you.”
And trust is the quietest, yet strongest, foundation in a relationship.
Saying “It’s nothing” when it actually is, is often meant to protect our partner. But it does the opposite.
It pushes them away.
It strips them of the chance to listen. To hold us. To carry a little of the weight, even just a little.
In a relationship, strength is not about always looking strong. Strength appears when two people can sit together in imperfection, without having to pretend.
Isn’t it beautiful—when two people, together, don’t have to become someone else? They can be themselves, as honestly as possible.
Finished on Saturday, January 9, 2026, 23:09, in Pelaihari
