Every getaway with him feels like stepping into a dream, one where I can finally shed the weight of everything I’m expected to be. In his presence, I don’t have to play the roles that define my everyday life—wife, caretaker, organizer. With him, I can simply be me, raw and unfiltered, free from the endless demands and expectations that seem to follow me everywhere else.

The moment we meet, it’s like the world fades away. There’s an intoxicating freedom in leaving behind the familiar, stepping into the unknown with someone who sees me differently—someone who sees me. Whether it’s a hidden café tucked away in a cobblestone alley or a quiet cabin surrounded by nothing but trees, every moment feels like an escape into a world where nothing else matters.

I love the way he looks at me, not with the tired familiarity I’ve grown used to, but with a spark of excitement, as though I’m someone worth discovering again and again. He listens in a way that makes me feel heard, makes me feel seen. In those fleeting days, I don’t feel like a wife trying to hold everything together. I feel like a woman—alive, vibrant, and untethered.

But then, the dream ends, as it always does. I pack my bags, return to the life I left behind, and slip back into my roles as if nothing ever happened. Yet, in the quiet moments, I find myself longing for the next time—another escape, another chance to breathe freely, another chapter in the dream that keeps me going.