Iris here. Life as a stay-at-home mom to two energetic kids isn’t easy — especially since Paul, my husband, started drifting away after our second child. He used to be hands-on, but now, work and “me time” always came first. I felt like a single parent with a roommate. And the silence between us kept growing.
Then Paul left for his friend’s wedding for three days, handing me just $20 to feed the kids and keep things going. The fridge was nearly empty, and I felt helpless, angry, and alone. In a moment of desperation, I sold his treasured antique coins. It was survival, not spite.
When Paul returned, he was glowing — until he saw the empty case. He dropped to his knees, crushed. My heart sank. Without hesitation, I pawned my grandmother’s ring to buy back the coins. I returned them with shaking hands, ready to own my mistake — and speak my truth.
That night, we finally had the conversation we’d been avoiding. We unpacked years of distance and buried hurt. It wasn’t the coins, but the lack of connection that nearly ruined us. Now we’re rebuilding — slowly, honestly — learning that love needs effort, not just presence.
