He told me to go back to bed and handled the school run

Dear Delyara, I had been pretending I was okay for two days. Not very convincingly, apparently. I woke up heavy, sore, tearful for no clear reason, and already dreading the noise of breakfast. Usually I would have pushed through because mornings are busy and children do not pause their needs just because their mother feels emotionally unstitched. My husband looked at me once and said, “Go back to bed. I’ve got it.” I started to argue, mostly out of habit. He didn’t let me. I got back under the duvet and listened to the chaos of lunchboxes and shoes and bickering from upstairs while someone else carried the morning. I cried from relief. It was not the grandest act of love in our marriage. It was one of the truest.