That night, I decided to confront my husband.
“Do you even care anymore?” I blurted out as he sat at the dinner table, shoveling food into his mouth. “Do you even notice me?”
He sighed, rubbing his face. “Of course, I notice you. But to be honest, I feel like I can’t do anything right. Every time I try, I feel like I’m failing. So, I just stopped trying.”
His words hit me hard. Had I been so focused on my own feelings of being neglected that I’d never considered his? Had we both just given up?
But before I could respond, my phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number.
“Leave him. You deserve happiness.”
My blood ran cold. Whoever this was, they weren’t just watching; they were getting bolder. I was breathing in short, panicked breaths as I looked at my husband, who was still staring at his plate, unaware of my turmoil.
The next day, I went straight to HR and asked for the security footage from outside the office. I needed to know who was leaving the notes. When the footage loaded, my stomach sank.
It wasn’t a coworker. It wasn’t some mysterious admirer.
It was my husband.
I stared at the screen, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. He had been the one leaving the notes, the flowers, and the messages. But why?
That night, I confronted him. “It was you,” I whispered, my voice trembling.
He looked up, guilt all over his face. “I didn’t know how else to make you see. To make you realize that you were pulling away just as much as I was. You only reacted when someone else paid attention to you. So, I became that someone else. I just wanted you to feel wanted again, to remember how it felt.”
Tears welled up in my eyes. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”
“Because words weren’t working anymore.”
And he was right. We had let silence and distance replace the love we once had. He had taken a desperate, unconventional approach, but deep down, I knew—I still loved him. And for the first time in years, I truly saw him.
That night, we talked. Really talked. And slowly, we started anew—not as strangers, but as two people willing to fight for what they had almost lost.
Lesson learned: Love doesn’t end in one dramatic moment. It fades away in the quiet, in the neglect, in the assumption that the other person will always be there. If you love someone, fight for them. Notice them. And most importantly, never stop showing them that you care.
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