Lately, Dan’s late nights had become the new normal. At first, I believed his explanations—work was overwhelming, deadlines kept piling up, and he was constantly exhausted. But as the days dragged on, so did my unease. The laughter we used to share was replaced by silence. Our nightly routines turned into me waiting up alone while he arrived home drained and distant.
Just a few years ago, everything was different. After we got married, every evening felt like a warm hug—dinners together, cozy talks, quiet cuddles on the couch. Now, those memories felt like echoes in a house that had grown too quiet.
One evening, I decided to make his favorite meal—lasagna oozing with cheese, crisp garlic bread, and his beloved chocolate cake. I hoped it would stir something in him, maybe remind him of the version of us we used to be.
As the kitchen filled with the delicious smell of dinner, I noticed my phone battery flashing red—just 10% left. I’d left my charger at my mom’s place the night before. Since Dan wasn’t expected home for a while, I figured I had time to swing by and grab it. The oven was set low, dinner would be fine, and maybe stepping out would ease the storm building inside me.