It’s been tough lately. My husband, David, has been distant, and our marriage feels like it’s hanging by a thread. Every day feels like a carefully rehearsed play—polite exchanges, routine conversations, and a growing silence that fills the space where love and connection used to live.

I can’t remember the last time he complimented me or even noticed when I made an effort. Just last week, I spent hours getting ready for our dinner date, hoping to recapture even a flicker of the spark we once had. But when I walked into the room, he barely looked up from his phone. No “You look beautiful.” No warm smile. Just a distracted nod, as if I were no more than a shadow passing by.

It’s moments like these that hurt the most. It’s not the arguments or disagreements—it’s the absence of acknowledgment, the feeling that I’ve become invisible to the man who once made me feel like the center of his world. I try to tell myself it’s just a phase, that he’s stressed or preoccupied, but deep down, I wonder if something bigger has shifted.

I’ve replayed our early days in my mind—the laughter, the tenderness, the way he used to look at me as if I was the most incredible person he’d ever met. Where did that go? And why can’t I seem to reach him anymore?

I don’t want to give up, but I also don’t want to keep shrinking in a marriage where I feel unseen. Something has to change—I just don’t know how to take the first step without breaking completely.