For thirteen years, I thought my wife, Julia, and I had built one of those quiet, steady marriages that didn’t need constant affirmation to feel secure. We weren’t flashy, and we weren’t the type to post anniversary tributes online or broadcast every milestone to the world. But we always celebrated each other. Birthdays were a big deal, not extravagant, just thoughtful and cozy. A homemade cake. Candlelight dinners. A day with the kids. A feeling of us. So when Julia told me she didn’t want a birthday celebration this year, I didn’t know what to make of it. It was a Wednesday evening in early spring. The kids were finishing homework at the dining table, and the sun was setting in that soft pink way that made everything look warmer than it felt. Julia was chopping vegetables for dinner, moving with a distracted stiffness that I’d noticed more often in recent months…….CONTINUE READING IN BELOW
It was a Wednesday evening in early spring. The kids were finishing homework at the dining table, and the sun was setting in that soft pink way that made everything look warmer than it felt.
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