In that room, I began to see all the tiny moments I had brushed aside — the sharp tone when I asked for help, the sighs when I was sick, the way he’d withdraw every time life wasn’t shining or easy.
I’d convinced myself that everyone has flaws, that marriages require compromise, that love sometimes means forgiving without reason. But what I’d really been doing was minimizing myself to fit inside his comfort zone.
Looking back, I realize I’d mistaken his indifference for calm. He didn’t shout or rage; he simply didn’t care enough to stay present. And I’d been calling that maturity.
The truth is, neglect doesn’t always roar. Sometimes it just quietly erases you — one unkind word at a time.
The Suite With the Beautiful View
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