When my husband told me he wanted to start sleeping in a different room, it felt like my world was collapsing. It wasn’t just about sharing a bed—it was about sharing warmth, comfort, and the quiet connection that comes from simply being near each other. Losing that closeness terrified me.
I watched David carefully clear out his bedside drawer—his glasses, his books, the photo of us smiling on our wedding day—all placed into a small wicker basket. My chest tightened with every item he packed away.
Five years earlier, a terrible car accident had left me paralyzed from the waist down. Through those dark months of recovery, David had been my rock—holding me through my lowest moments and fighting beside me every step of the way. But now, as he moved into another room, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was losing him.
“I’ll still be here if you need me, Mara,” he said softly, not quite meeting my eyes. “I just need a little more freedom when I sleep.”
Freedom from what—me? The thought stung.
That night, I lay alone in our bed, staring into the darkness, listening to every creak of the house. The bed felt too big, too cold, and too quiet. I could still smell his aftershave on his pillow, and it made me ache.
Continue reading on next page…