She looked at the ceiling, her eyes burning.
Even though they were together, she never felt so alone.
She rose slowly from the bed, careful not to wake him, and walked into the master bathroom. The soft glow from the vanity lights highlighted her reflection in the mirror. Her nightgown clung to her hips, slightly twisted from their earlier motion. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen from unreturned kisses, her hair falling out of the bun she’d pinned up hours ago.
She looked like a woman who had been touched but not cherished.
The mirror didn’t lie. This version of Kylee wasn’t the girl Jake used to chase through the halls of their high school. This woman had carried life three times. Stayed up nursing fevers, cleaning up spills, and smiling through sleep deprivation. Her skin was softer. Her eyes held stories. But all Jake saw now was a body that had changed, a presence he took for granted.
Was this what she was meant to accept? Sex without connection, intimacy without passion, love without being seen?
She touched her stomach, then her lips. She felt so ugly. She felt invisible.
She wondered if he even noticed that she never finished. That she hadn’t, in months. Maybe longer.
Her chest tightened as she stared into her own eyes. Something was missing, and she didn’t know if it could ever come back. Or if she even wanted it to.
Somewhere, deep in the shadows of her mind, a voice screamed: There has to be more than this!
She left the bathroom light on as she returned to the bedroom, its warm glow spilling across the carpet like moonlight. Jake didn't move, still turned away, the slow rise and fall of his breath filling the silence.
Kylee eased the drawer open on her side of the bed. Beneath a stack of pajamas and tucked behind a nursing bra was a small, matte black box. Her fingers brushed over it hesitantly, as if she was reaching for something forbidden. Something sacred.
She slid back under the sheets, turning her back to Jake. Her hand trembled as she opened the box, revealing the small vibrator she bought a year ago during a lonely night online. She used it only a handful of times, always quietly, always alone.
With slow, deliberate movements, she slipped her hand beneath the waistband of her panties. She closed her eyes, not to escape, but to go somewhere no one else had touched in a long time, a place where she was still alive, still beautiful, still burning beneath the surface.
She thought of the version of herself who used to dance barefoot in the kitchen. The girl who wore dark lipstick and drank tequila and laughed until she cried. The woman who still existed, even if no one else could see her anymore.
Her breath quickened. Her body responded like it had been waiting for permission. She bit her lip to stay silent, her back arching slightly under the covers. The ache Jake left behind began to melt into something warmer, deeper. Real.
She didn’t think of him.
She didn’t need to.
Kylee gave herself what he hadn’t: release. Soft. Quiet. Sacred. When it was over, she laid still, tears slipping silently down her cheeks not from sadness, but from relief.
She blinked away the tears and stared at the ceiling. Her breathing slowed as she tucked the vibrator back into its box and slid it quietly into the drawer.
She rolled onto her side, facing away from Jake. His back rose and fell in that same peaceful rhythm, as if he’d drifted into a dream without her. She listened to it for a while, almost bitter at how easily he could fall asleep after giving her so little.
The room was dim, the shadows softening everything except the hollow ache in her chest. She curled her knees up slightly and wrapped her arms around herself. Her skin was still sensitive, still tingling from what she’d just given herself but it wasn’t just about pleasure. It was about feeling something again. Reclaiming a sliver of control in a life where she gave everything away.
She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, letting the quiet settle around her like a second blanket.
For the first time in months, she didn’t feel numb. Somewhere, beneath all the pain and silence, a spark had lit.
Not a spark for her husband.
But for herself.
Kylee woke before the sunrise. The world outside was still hushed in frost, the windows coated with a thin glaze of condensation. She slipped out of bed quietly, careful not to disturb Jake, and padded across the room to the master bathroom.
The shower steamed quickly, and she stood under the hot water with her eyes closed, hands pressed flat against the cold tile. For a few brief minutes, it felt like the water could wash away everything: the hollowness of the night before, the ache in her chest, the silence that now lived between her and her husband.
When she stepped out, the mirror was fogged with steam, but her reflection was there, waiting… She toweled off, moisturized, and slipped into a pair of high-waisted jeans and a soft bright pink colored sweater that hugged her curves just enough to remind herself she still had them.
At her vanity, she brushed her long chestnut hair until it gleamed, then applied her makeup with practiced precision. Light foundation, a hint of blush, a warm berry lip, and just enough eyeliner to brighten her tired eyes. Even when she didn’t feel seen, she still showed up polished. Presentable. Beautiful, even if no one said it out loud anymore.
