I’m starting to feel like a stranger in my own marriage. The man I once knew so well—the one who used to hold my face in his hands and tell me I was everything—now barely looks at me. It’s as if we’re living in the same house but in different worlds, passing each other like ghosts, exchanging only the most necessary words.

I keep wondering if I did something wrong. Did I change too much? Did I stop being the woman he once adored? Or have we simply drifted so far apart that neither of us knows how to find our way back? The thought terrifies me. I never imagined we would become this—two people coexisting under the same roof but no longer truly seeing each other.

I try to reach him, but it feels one-sided. I ask about his day, and he gives me short answers. I sit beside him, hoping he’ll pull me close, but he doesn’t. I dress up, hoping he’ll notice, but his eyes barely leave his phone or the TV. Nights that used to be filled with laughter and touch are now quiet, distant, empty.

I don’t know how to fix this—or if it even can be fixed. All I know is that I miss him. I miss us. And I’m terrified that I’m holding on to something that’s already slipping through my fingers.