For weeks, I pushed through the exhaustion, pretending not to hear his remarks about how I’d “let myself go.” But behind my silence, I was changing — not just as a mother, but as a woman. I found strength in small steps: joining a support group, going for short walks, and painting again, something I’d given up years ago. Each day, I rediscovered a little more of myself. My husband, too wrapped up in his own world, didn’t notice. He didn’t see me healing, growing, or realizing that I deserved better than the version of love he was offering.