I felt invisible in my own marriage. Kyle no longer noticed me, no longer cared. “We moved around each other like distant roommates.” One morning, I suggested a date night. He barely responded. Frustrated, I confided in Dean, a charming coworker. “Emma, you look stunning today,” he said. His attention felt like a lifeline.

Then the flowers started arriving—beautiful bouquets, sweet notes. “You deserve to be adored every single day.” But the sender was a mystery. I assumed it was Dean. When I confronted him, he laughed. “Emma, I like you… as a friend. I’m gay.”

A final note arrived: “Meet me at 7 p.m.” My heart raced. At the restaurant, I called out, “Alright, are you going to show yourself?” A voice I knew answered. “And do you love him?”

I turned. Kyle. “It was you?” His eyes held regret. “I let us drift apart. But when you said you’d have left if not for Sam… I knew I had to change.”

Tears blurred my vision. “A simple date night would have been enough.”

Kyle held me close. “So… can you forgive me?”

I nodded. My Kyle was back.