I’ve been married for years, but recently, something has shifted. The attention, the compliments, the way he used to look at me—it’s all gone. At first, I told myself it was just life getting in the way. Work, stress, responsibilities. But deep down, I know it’s more than that. The man who once couldn’t keep his eyes off me now barely glances up from his phone. The playful teasing, the stolen kisses, the warmth of his touch—it’s all faded into a dull, predictable routine.

I miss feeling wanted. I miss the way I used to walk into a room and know his eyes were already on me. I miss feeling seen.

Tonight, as I stand in front of the mirror, I search for traces of the woman I used to be. The one who felt confident, desirable, intoxicating. I run my fingers over the fabric of my dress, letting it hug my curves, wondering if I still have that effect on anyone.

Maybe it’s foolish to seek validation elsewhere. But maybe, just maybe, I need a reminder—one lingering glance, one unspoken moment—to prove to myself that I still have it in me.

So, I step out, not looking for love, not even for attention—just for a sign. A spark. A reminder that I am still me.