My Husband Never Told Me I Was Beautiful

For years, I longed for a husband who looked at me and said the words every married woman wants to hear spoken over her: “You are beautiful. He never did. Not on our wedding day, not when I put a nice dress and shoes for him — and fuck not even when the way he looked at me sometimes. I began to make nonsense assumptions — that maybe I had never been beautiful for him in the first place.

The Words That Never Came:

Ethan spent about one hour to prepare before arriving home on a rainy Saturday evening in Boston.

I had hurt myself and donned the navy blue dress he once declared made me look like a masterpiece. I curled my hair, applied makeup and spend more time in front of the mirror.

When Ethan came into the apartment, I smiled awkwardly.

For a brief second, I waited.

He looked at me with smiling face, kissed my forehead.

“You look nice,” he said.

My smile faded.

“Nice?” I repeated.

He looked confused. “Yeah. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I whispered.

That night, with Ethan snoozing next to me, I laid there staring at the ceiling reminiscing of all the important moments in our union.