Last night, my husband and I had a small disagreement. Nothing explosive, just enough unresolved words to leave the room heavy with silence. We went to bed without fixing it, and no matter how hard I tried, sleep wouldn’t come.
I lay there pretending to rest, my thoughts spinning. Was I too harsh? Was he upset? The quiet felt louder than any argument.
Sometime later, I heard the bedroom door creak. He had stepped out earlier and was now moving carefully, trying not to wake me. I stayed still as he crossed the room. Then he stopped beside the bed.
In a soft whisper, almost to himself, he said, “I wish.”
Those two words broke my heart. I didn’t know what he wished for — peace, understanding, or simply for us to feel close again. But in that moment, I felt how deeply he cared, even when neither of us said it right.
I kept my eyes closed, tears slipping silently, realizing that beneath our tension was still love and hope.
The next morning, I didn’t hold on to the night before. I turned to him, hugged him tightly, and said, “Let’s start fresh today.”
He smiled, relieved. “I’d like that.”
Then I understood his wish. It wasn’t about being right — it was about us, our bond, and choosing each other again.
