When my husband Daniel came home one evening and told me he desperately needed a vacation, I wasn’t surprised.
For months, he had complained about work, sleepless nights, endless meetings, and feeling completely exhausted.
But then he added something I wasn’t expecting.
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— I think I need to go alone.
I stared at him.
We had been married for seventeen years. Every vacation we had ever taken had been together.
— Alone? Why?
Daniel sighed and rubbed his forehead.
— Please don’t make this complicated. I just need a few days where nobody needs anything from me.
I wanted to understand.
So I smiled, told him I respected his decision, and even helped him pack.
But the moment he drove away, something inside me began screaming that this wasn’t about stress.
Daniel had bought new clothes before the trip.
He had gotten a haircut.
