A fl00d of guilt hi:t me.
I shouldn’t have read his diary, but worse, I hadn’t seen the signs of his struggle. Our fight suddenly looked different: it hadn’t been about the trivial matter that sparked it, but about emotions he had locked away for too long. While I’d been preoccupied with my own stress, I had missed the signals that he needed more than silence and patience. He needed me to truly see him.
That night, when he returned home, I didn’t wait for words. I wrapped my arms around him and confessed what I had done. I braced myself for anger, but instead his composure cracked, and tears poured out. For hours we sat together, finally speaking with honesty—about his grief, about my blind spots, about the distance we had unknowingly built between us.
What began as one of our lowest moments transformed into a turning point. From then forward, we promised each other we would never again let unspoken pain build walls between us. Because sometimes, it’s not avoidance that saves a marriage, but the courage to face the truth together. And in that truth, we found a closeness deeper than we’d ever known.
