The distance between my husband and me is growing, and I don’t know how to bridge it. I feel like I’m not important to him anymore.

We used to be so close—partners in everything, sharing our thoughts, our dreams, our quiet moments. Now, it feels like we’re living separate lives under the same roof. Conversations are brief, stripped of warmth, as if we’re merely going through the motions. His touch, once filled with affection, has become rare, almost absent. When he looks at me, it’s as if he’s looking through me, his mind elsewhere, lost in thoughts he no longer shares.

I’ve tried to reach him. I’ve asked if something is wrong, but he shrugs it off, saying he’s tired or stressed. I’ve planned special nights, hoping to rekindle the spark, but they pass without the magic they once held. The silence between us is suffocating, and I find myself lying awake at night, wondering when we became strangers.

I don’t want to lose him, but I also don’t want to keep feeling this invisible, this unimportant. Love isn’t supposed to feel like this—like something slipping through my fingers no matter how tightly I hold on. I just wish I knew what changed. More than that, I wish I knew how to bring us back to what we once were before the distance became too wide to cross.