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I Was Her Husband, But She Never Loved Me
The Words I Had Always Feared:
I believed for years that simply being there as her husband would one day mean that I had her heart. I filled her with my patience, my loyalty and all of the love I was capable of giving. Yet she always gazed at me with that something I never could put my finger on.
Until one fateful night and the silence was broken — I had always feared this moment since Clara spoke it in my heart.
“I never loved you.”
And I felt in an instant too sedentary for a panting silence in what was supposed to be my home living quarters.
I glanced at my wife, a woman whose opinion on coffee I could recite by memory, whose mannerisms we knew from across the room and who silence was cracked over time like an ancient code.
I wanted to ask her why.
And one question oozed out instead.
“Then why did you stay?”
Clara lowered her eyes.
But in that moment, I knew the heavy burden had been buried under the surface of our marriage long before we were both ready to pull it out into the daylight.
