​I Found Her Note in My Pocket and Realized I Haven't Looked at Her Face in Three Days

Dear Delyara, I put my hand into my jacket pocket tonight and found a small, folded piece of lined paper she must have slipped in there before I left for the site. It just said: “I made some saffron rice for your lunchbox. Please eat it while it’s warm. I love you.” I sat there holding that paper at 3:45 AM and realized, with a sickening jolt of guilt, that I haven't actually looked directly at her face in three days. We live in the same house, we share the same bed, but our lives have become a series of passing shifts—me coming home grey and silent from the night watch just as she is waking up to start her day, our communication reduced to scribbled budget notes and texts about mortgage direct debits. I am turning into a financial ghost in my own marriage, a provider who is so busy managing the "future" that he is completely destroying the present. The rice in my box was cold, and it tasted like ash in my mouth.