There’s a moment in every woman’s life when she realizes she’s been living half-awake. Drifting. Loyal, yes. Dutiful, sure. But hollow in ways she didn’t let herself feel until something—or someone—reminded her what it’s like to ache again. To want again. And when that happens, she doesn’t choose to change the dynamic. She simply can't unfeel it.
And he knows it. He feels it.
Down to the marrow of his bones, her husband knows: he's forever lost that with her.
She may still be there, wrapped in the warm safety of their home, slipping into the bed they’ve shared for years. She may still fold his laundry, kiss his forehead, and laugh at his jokes. But it’s different now. There’s something in her that no longer reaches for him. Something that’s slipped from the "we" and started dancing to the rhythm of her own desire. And it’s not something she’s choosing out of rebellion. It’s something ancient. Elemental.
He still gets glimpses of the woman she used to be. The woman who once looked at him like he was everything. But the spark in her eye isn’t for him anymore. That fluttery gasp she lets out when someone grabs her hips just right—that’s not his doing. That spark is there, just not for him.
She doesn't show up for him in that way.
For no lack of trying, she can't.
It just isn't there anymore.…
