Daniel and I used to laugh together. We had inside jokes, playful teasing, and those late-night conversations that made time disappear. I used to catch him looking at me with a spark in his eyes, the kind that made me feel like the most important person in the world.

Now, our marriage feels more like a routine than a relationship. We wake up, go through the motions, exchange a few words over breakfast, then go our separate ways. Even when we’re in the same room, it feels like we’re miles apart. The warmth, the excitement, the little moments that once made us us—they’ve all faded into a dull, lifeless rhythm.

I don’t know when I stopped feeling special, but I know I did. Maybe it was the gradual way he stopped noticing the effort I put in—the way I dressed up for date nights that never happened, the small gestures of affection that went unreturned. Maybe it was the way our conversations turned into schedules and responsibilities instead of dreams and desires. Or maybe it was the moment I realized I could disappear into the background of his life, and he might not even notice.

I don’t want to just exist beside him—I want to be seen, cherished, loved like I used to be. But I’m starting to wonder if he even remembers who we used to be… or if I’m the only one still holding on.