I love my husband. I always have, and I probably always will. He’s a good man—steady, dependable, and kind. But lately, it feels like we’re living parallel lives, side by side but never really meeting. There’s a distance between us, one we never talk about but both seem to feel.

I can’t remember the last time he truly looked at me. Not the passing glances as we exchange pleasantries or go over schedules, but the way he used to look at me—with awe, with admiration, as if I were the most beautiful woman in the room. Those moments used to make me feel special, like I was the center of his world. Now, I feel like a part of the furniture—necessary but unnoticed.

I miss feeling irresistible, feeling wanted. I miss the rush of excitement that comes from knowing someone can’t take their eyes off you. I try to tell myself it’s normal, that this is just what happens after years of marriage. But deep down, I’m yearning for something more—for that spark, that electricity that makes me feel alive.

I look in the mirror and wonder if it’s me. Have I changed? Have I lost the thing that made me captivating? Or has he just stopped seeing it?

I don’t want to step outside the lines, but a part of me wonders—if someone else were to look at me the way he used to, would I still have it? Could you be the one to remind me of who I used to be?