The Note That Changed Everything
My marriage had become one long, exhausting disappointment.
The man I once adored, the one who used to leave love notes in my purse and send me flirty texts in the middle of the day, was gone. Now, he barely looked up from his phone when I walked into the room. Forget passion—we barely even spoke.
At work, men noticed me. Compliments, stolen glances, the occasional harmless flirtation—it was a reminder that I was still desirable. But at home? I may as well have been invisible.
I tried. God, I *tried.*
I planned date nights. He was “too tired.” I wore his favorite dress. He didn’t notice. I even booked a weekend getaway, but he canceled last minute because of “work.”
One night, I snapped.
“I can’t do this anymore!” I screamed, slamming the bedroom door. “Do you even *see* me? Or am I just furniture to you?”
He barely looked up from the couch. “You’re overreacting.”
That was it. The final straw.
I grabbed my keys and left, my hands shaking. I didn’t know where I was going—just that I needed *out*.
The next morning, I went straight to work, still fuming. But as I stepped into my office, I froze.
Sitting right on my desk was a massive bouquet of red roses, the petals full and rich, their scent filling the air. My heart pounded. Could it be…?
With trembling fingers, I reached for the note tucked inside.
But as soon as I read it, my breath caught in my throat.
**“You deserve to be loved the way you want to be. – J.”**
J?
My husband’s name was *Mark.*
I gripped the edge of my desk as the realization hit me. The flowers weren’t from *him.*
They were from *someone else.*
And that someone knew *exactly* what I’d been missing.
