My wife used to be a slender and beautiful woman. I fell in love with her mainly because of her appearance and I’ve always been proud that she chose me among many men who desired her. After she gave birth to our baby son, she changed a lot.
I almost didn’t recognize her anymore, as she put on weight, her face looked tired all the time, and the spark she used to have in her eyes had faded. At first, I told myself it was just the stress of becoming a new mom. The sleepless nights, the feedings, the endless diapers—it had to take a toll.
I was patient the first few months, but as time went on, I started getting frustrated. I missed the woman I married. I missed her laugh, her energy, and yes—her figure.
She stopped wearing makeup. Her hair was always tied up in a messy bun. Most days she was in the same stretched-out t-shirt and leggings.
Meanwhile, I still tried to dress nice, to keep myself in shape. I couldn’t help but feel like I was putting in more effort than she was. I’d come home from work and instead of being greeted with a smile and a kiss like before, she’d be half-asleep on the couch, the baby crying in the background.
Dinner wouldn’t be ready, and laundry was always piling up. I didn’t say it out loud, but I started thinking… this isn’t what I signed up for. I began spending more time at work.
Volunteered for extra shifts, stayed late even when I didn’t need to. I told myself I was providing for the family, but the truth is, I just didn’t want to be around her. I wanted a break from the chaos, from the disappointment of seeing the woman I once adored turn into someone I didn’t recognize.
And then… I met Tessa. She worked in the same building. Always dressed nice, always smelled good, and she laughed at my jokes.
She made me feel seen again. Wanted. It started with coffee breaks, then lunches, then eventually, I was texting her every day, even at home.
I didn’t cheat physically, but emotionally? I was far gone. One evening, I came home late—again.
My wife was waiting for me. She didn’t yell. She didn’t even look mad.
She just asked, “Do you still love me?” I froze. I had no idea how to answer that. I think I mumbled something like “Of course I do,” but we both knew it wasn’t true.
She nodded, quietly walked past me, and went to check on the baby. A week later, she told me she was going to her mother’s for a few days. “I need a break,” she said.
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