I spent three weeks planning David’s 35th birthday party. The kitchen had become my war room, covered in lists and sample menus.
He’d been my best friend for a decade; I just wanted us to feel like that again.
Lately, our marriage had grown cold in a way I couldn’t quite name. David came home late, kissed me on the forehead instead of the lips, and disappeared into his office for hours.
I was hoping this birthday party might help us feel more connected.