For five years, James had been my unwavering support. After the accident that left me paralyzed from the waist down, he stood by me, helping me adjust to my new reality and ensuring I never felt like a burden.
But everything changed the night he told me he wanted to sleep in a separate room.
I watched in silence as he carefully packed the items from his bedside table into a small wicker basket.
“I’ll still be here if you need me, Pam,” he reassured me, his voice calm yet distant. “That won’t change.”
But it did.
“You just won’t be here beside me,” I murmured, my throat tightening.
James nodded, avoiding my gaze. “I just need more space while I sleep.”
A part of me wanted to plead with him to stay, but I held back. I had already lost so much—my mobility, my independence—was I about to lose my husband too?
A Growing Distance
At first, I convinced myself it was just an adjustment. That nothing between us had really changed.
But the nights felt colder.
Lying alone in our bed, I couldn’t shake the fear that I had become too much for him. That perhaps he no longer wanted to share a space with me.
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