Dan’s late nights at work had become routine, leaving me lonely and suspicious of what was pulling him away. But when a quick trip to my mom’s house revealed hushed voices from the bedroom, my world flipped upside down, forcing me to confront the truth, or so I thought. Dan had been late again. Another long night at work, or so he said. It was happening more often now, and every time he came home, he looked more tired than the night before. When we first got married, three years ago, things were different. We would spend the evenings together, talking, laughing, or just watching TV. Now, most nights, he barely said two words before heading to bed.
I missed him. I missed us. I wanted to understand. Work was stressful, and I knew that. But every time I saw him walk through the door, exhausted, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was slipping away. Was it just the job? Or was something else going on? Tonight, I wanted to make things right. I decided to cook Dan’s favorite meal. Lasagna with extra cheese, garlic bread, and that chocolate cake he couldn’t resist. Maybe it would remind him of how things used to be, back when we made time for each other, no matter what. As I prepped dinner, chopping onions for the sauce, my thoughts wandered back to how easy things had been at the start. We were inseparable. But now, with his constant late nights, it felt like we were living in different worlds.
I kept telling myself it was just a phase, that once work settled down, he’d come back to me. But how long could I wait for that? The smell of garlic filled the kitchen as I placed the lasagna in the oven. I wiped my hands on a dish towel and glanced at my phone—only 10% battery left. “Great,” I muttered. I had left my charger at Mom’s last night when I stopped by after work. I was waiting on an important call from a client, and the last thing I needed was for my phone to die. I debated what to do. Dinner was already in the oven, and I didn’t want to mess up the surprise by leaving, but I needed that charger. It would only take a few minutes to grab it, and I could be back before Dan even noticed. I glanced at the clock. He wouldn’t be home for at least another hour, maybe more, if the past few nights were anything to go by.
I reached for my phone and called my mom. No answer. I sighed. She must have been out for her evening walk. I decided to leave quickly, reminding myself that Dan wouldn’t be home anytime soon. He never was these days. Besides, everything was prepped, and the lasagna could bake for a little while longer without me. I’d be back in no time, and everything would be perfect when he walked in the door. No more excuses, no more late-night work calls, just the two of us—like it used to be. I grabbed my coat, took one last look at the simmering pot of sauce, and headed out the door. As I drove, I couldn’t help but think about how distant things had become between us.
