As Rebecca continued speaking, our marriage began rearranging itself in my mind. The emotional distance I had believed was proof that love had faded, the small arguments that grew into walls, the way she stopped wanting to see friends or go places—all of it looked different now.
I remembered mornings when she said she felt sick and stayed in bed long after I left for work. I had thought she was avoiding responsibility. Now I wondered if those were days when anxiety had made ordinary life feel impossible. I remembered inviting her out with friends and feeling frustrated when she made excuses. I had thought she no longer cared. Now I understood that social situations may have felt unbearable to her.
“There were signs,” I said quietly, more to myself than to her. “I just didn’t know how to read them.”
Rebecca gave a sad smile.
“I became good at hiding it,” she said. “Too good, maybe. I told myself that if I looked normal long enough, maybe I would eventually feel normal.”
