Five years ago, she gave him his heart and he gave her a ring. A ring that felt like the most precious thing in the world because it symbolized what they had, shared and promised. Their love felt invincible; it felt eternal. They felt like one.
But now, there was a chip in their connection and she was the only one that seemed to notice, seemed to care. Dates were an exception, not a routine. Affection was superficial. There was no depth, no consideration, no want to improve. She stared at him at night wanting to find what could work and make him see what their relationship needed from him. She looked at the tiny space between them in bed and felt like she was miles away.
“I love you,” she said softly. “I want to hear you say it. I want you to tell me how you feel.”
She wanted him to wake up. Literally and metaphorically. She needed more from him. She wanted him to hear her and listen to her. She closed her eyes and sighed. She felt alone, unnoticed, and unheard. Her soul cried tears of blood.
She threw the covers off her and got out of bed. It hurt to sleep next to him—he slept so peacefully and she felt absolutely no peace.