I realised something was wrong the day I noticed my wife no longer said I love you to me. I have no idea exactly when it stoppedwas it a week ago, or perhaps a month? All I know is, it used to be constant, every morning when I left for work, every time we ended a phone call, before we drifted off to sleep. And Id always reply in my own way, same, yeah, haha, love.
Im thirty-four, spending each day working from morning until evening. I leave home before sunrise and come back worn out. I always believed being a good husband simply meant doing my dutiespaying the bills, doing the shopping, being present in the house, staying loyal. Id come home, eat dinner, take a shower, and sink into my phone or the TV. Shed tell me about her day and Id respond with monosyllabic answers: uh-huh, yes, well talk later, Im tired. When she said I love you, it rarely registered as something special. It became so routine, I never imagined Id miss hearing it.
The change started appearing in small ways. She stopped messaging me during the day. She used to send little notesTake care, Have a nice day, Have you eaten lunch? Now, nothing. In the evening, shed lie in bed facing her phone, her back towards me. She never reached for my hand anymore, didnt ask me how my day had been. One evening, I called her love, and she replied with just my name. That little moment left a strange ache in my chest.
Eventually, I worked up the courage to ask her,
Do you still love me?
She fell quiet, not meeting my gaze. She said,
I dont know I dont feel the same anymore.
Her words felt like a blow I never saw coming. I asked if something had happened, if there was someone else, or if Id done something drastic. She assured me there was no one, but confided that she was simply tired. Tired of feeling alone, tired of talking without being listened to, tired of saying I love you and never hearing it back.
That night, I remembered all the times shed said I love you, and all the times Id answered without looking up, hugging her, or truly paying attention. I remembered coming home and burying myself in my phone; the moments when she asked if we could go out, do something together, and Id rather just stay in bed. I always thought love was proven by providing, by taking care of things. But what she needed was words, time, and my attention.
Since then, Ive been trying to change. I tell her I love her now. I hug her. I text her. I invite her out. But its not quite the same. She looks at me with caution, as if shes afraid to hope again. Sometimes, when I tell her I love her, she simply says, thank you. Somehow, that stings even more than a no.
Were under the same roof, sleeping in the same bed, but everything feels different. I feel as though Im trying to extinguish a fire when its already burnt out. I dont know if Ive left it too late. Im not sure if shes moved on, forgotten me. But I know Id give anything to go back to those days when she said I love you without thinking twice.
If anyone reading this has advice for me, Ill admit I could use it. Ive learnt, sometimes painfully, that love isnt just about dutyit’s about being truly present, hearing and cherishing those words, and making sure you say them back before its too late.
