My husband hadn’t touched me in months and treated his old pillow like a safe. One night, I ripped it open, and what I found inside made me question everything I knew about him.
I used to think that once the kids left for college, life would slow down.
You know — easy dinners, movie nights, maybe even a spontaneous road trip, just the two of us, like back when we were dating. I was ready for the second honeymoon phase.
The day our daughter, Ellie, drove off to campus, my husband, Travis, started acting like a moody teenager.
“You see that?” he snapped one evening, flicking his wrist toward the street like it owed him money. “Another damn speed bump sign. That’s the fourth one this year.”
“No, it’s a statement. They’re turning this street into a preschool drop-off zone.”
Then came the breakfast drama. He flipped out because I used almond milk instead of whole milk in the pancakes.
“Maybe you’re tasting your own attitude,” I muttered.
Wrong move.
Travis stopped saying good morning. Stopped sitting with me during Jeopardy. Hell, he even moved his phone charger to the living room.
I did everything I could think of. Cooked his favorite chili. Bought the new tool magazine he’s obsessed with. Folded his shirts with that lavender softener he liked.
Nothing worked.
Once, I forgot to bring in the mail. That was the trigger. Travis stood in the kitchen, flipping through his empty hands like I’d stolen something sacred.
“My mower mag’s missing. It was supposed to come today.”
“It’s not ‘just a magazine,’ Maggie. It’s about knowing someone gives a crap about your interests!”
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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