A Wife in Name, Forgotten in Love

Ava’s reflection stared back at her from the window as thunder crackled outside and lightning flashed across the sky. She had been standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows for a while now, as if expecting some kind of divine message. The weather mirrored her mood—restless, stormy, unsettled. Rain poured heavily against the glass. At the same time, she found herself worrying about Ethan. Was he safe out there in the cold? The room felt chilly, yet Ava remained standing there alone, dressed in a soft ivory silk blouse paired with a flowing charcoal skirt that hugged her waist just right. A hint of jasmine and sandalwood lingered on her skin—the scent she knew he liked, subtle yet impossible to ignore. She had hoped for a pleasant dinner. She had hoped to tell him about her promotion. She moved back to the bed and began folding Ethan’s shirt over and over again. It was a silly habit, but the soft rustle of fabric and his faint scent helped steady her nerves. Ava closed her eyes briefly, imagining his reaction. If he noticed tonight… If he really looked at her… Maybe he would pause. Maybe he would see her again. The wind howled outside, rattling the windows. Her heartbeat echoed loudly in her ears as she folded the last sleeve. She placed the shirt down neatly, straightened her posture, and took a quiet breath. Her gaze flicked toward the doorway again. Waiting. Her phone lit up. 10:47 PM. Ethan still wasn’t home. No calls. No messages. Ava exhaled slowly. He’s just busy, she told herself. She went downstairs, her eyes settling on the meal she had prepared. It had gone cold. She hadn’t eaten. How could she? Her precious husband wasn’t home yet. The sound of a car pulling into the driveway made her heart jump. Ava stood immediately, smoothing her skirt, suddenly aware of herself. The door opened. She smiled. “Welcome,” she said softly, taking his jacket. His scent reached her—cedarwood and musk. Sharp. Cold. Just like him. Ethan walked in, loosening his tie, his expression distant. “You’re late,” she said gently. He glanced at her. Just a glance. “No need to wait up for me.” That was all. No apology. No explanation. Ava swallowed. “I made dinner. It’s probably cold now, but I can heat it—” “I ate already.” “Oh…” The word came out barely above a whisper. She hesitated. Part of her wanted to speak—to tell him that couples were supposed to share meals, that his late nights were becoming too frequent. At first, she had convinced herself she could live with it. But slowly… it had begun to hurt. Before she could say anything, Ethan’s gaze settled on her. “Do you want to question or lecture me now?” “No, I—” “You what?” Silence stretched between them. Ava lowered her eyes, her gaze falling from his face to the floor. Without another word, Ethan walked past her and headed into the bedroom. She stood there, unmoving, her hands slowly curling into fists. A dull ache settled in her chest. That glance he used to give her—the one that once made her heart race—was gone. In the kitchen, her stomach churned. Ava pressed a hand lightly against her abdomen, frowning. It wasn’t sharp pain. Just a dull, lingering discomfort. “Probably stress,” she murmured to herself. Work had been demanding lately. Anyone would feel this way. Still, something about it unsettled her. Her body felt… different. More sensitive. More aware. She shook the thought away. There were already too many things on her mind. Ethan coming home late. The silence growing between them. The way she kept pretending everything was fine. Taking a breath, she warmed some milk and took it upstairs. She placed the glass quietly on the bedside table. Sitting at the dressing table, Ava waited for Ethan to come out of the bathroom. Her eyes drifted to her reflection. Dark brown wavy hair brushing her shoulders. Hazel eyes. Fair skin. Soft lips. She stared a little longer than usual. When had she started doing this? Measuring herself like this… wondering if she was still enough. Her fingers brushed her lips absentmindedly. Was she no longer enough? Or had she married a man whose heart was never fully hers? Ava blinked quickly, pushing the thoughts away. Not tonight. She had chosen this dress. This scent. This patience. She just needed him to see her. Lightning flashed, flooding the room with white light just as Ethan stepped out. Ava turned. And for a moment, her breath caught. And oh lord! He was… handsome. The words she had prepared disappeared. He raised an eyebrow slightly. She stood quickly and handed him the glass of milk. He took it without a word and drank it. That small action warmed something inside her. Ava took the empty glass and left the room, hiding the quiet spark of happiness in her chest. Back in the kitchen, she looked at the untouched meal again. The feeling returned. She reheated it and forced herself to eat a little. When she returned to the bedroom, Ethan was already asleep. Ava lay beside him, staring at the ceiling. Her chest felt heavy. And sleep didn’t come easily.