I miss the way things used to be with my husband. The way he would look at me with warmth in his eyes, as if I was the most important person in his world. Now, he barely looks at me, and it’s making me question my own worth.

I catch myself watching him, hoping for some sign of the man he used to be with me. But all I see is distance—his eyes focused on his phone, his mind elsewhere, his words short and indifferent. I try to spark conversations, to bring back the laughter and closeness we once had, but it’s like talking to a wall.

I wonder if I’ve changed too much, or maybe not enough. Am I still the woman he once loved, or have I become someone he tolerates? I overanalyze everything—my appearance, my words, the way I carry myself—searching for an answer, for a way to make him see me again.

At night, I lie beside him, feeling miles apart even though we share the same bed. The silence between us is heavy, filled with unspoken words and unanswered questions. I miss his touch, his affection, the way he made me feel wanted. But now, I feel invisible, as if I’m fading from his life and he doesn’t even notice.

I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t even know if he wants me to. But the emptiness is becoming unbearable, and I wonder—how much longer can I hold on before there’s nothing left of us?