I used to cook every single day for my husband. Breakfast before work, dinner after. He’d eat, sometimes mumble “thanks,” and that was it. No real appreciation.
At first, I didn’t mind — I thought it was just part of being married. But after years of hearing him rave about restaurant meals and never once complimenting mine, I started to feel invisible.
One Friday, after coming home exhausted from work, I just… didn’t cook. I sat on the couch with tea and waited. When my husband asked what was for dinner, I said, “Not tonight. I’m tired.” He looked stunned.
The next few weeks, I kept at it — no cooking, just simple snacks for myself. At first, he grumbled, but then something changed.
One evening, he said, “I never realized how much love you put into cooking until it was gone. I thought food just appeared. I didn’t see the effort — or you.”
I didn’t expect him to say that. It stopped me in my tracks.
Now everything is different. He actually steps into the kitchen on his own, experiments with recipes, and even serves me dinner sometimes. The best part? He finally appreciates not just the meals, but me.
