I Used to Think His Late Nights Meant Hard Work—Until I Found Him at Her House
Dan’s late nights had become routine—excuses layered with distance I didn’t want to admit. I missed the closeness, the comfort, the us we used to be. So one Friday, I tried to bring it all back. I made his favorite dinner, lit candles, and filled our home with hope. Maybe, I thought, tonight could be the start of something new—or the return of something lost. But then I remembered my charger at Mom’s. I had time, I told myself. Just a quick trip before he got home. I didn’t know that with every mile…
Lately, Dan’s late nights had become the norm. “Just another long meeting,” he’d say, or, “Client dinner ran over.” It started gradually—a missed dinner here, a delayed text there. I wanted to believe him. For a while, I did. We had always been close, once the kind of couple who couldn’t stop talking even after the lights were out. I missed those days. I missed us.
So I decided to bring them back.
It was Friday. I spent the whole afternoon in the kitchen, covered in flour and memories. I made Dan’s favourite: cheesy lasagna, crispy garlic bread, and a dense, decadent chocolate cake. The house smelled like warmth and hope. I even set the table with candles, just like I used to when we first moved in. Maybe, I thought, tonight could be the start of something new—or the return of something lost.
