The sun was slowly setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. The evening breeze cooled the streets, but Tatiana barely noticed as she walked home. Her mind was caught between discomfort and a faint sense of flattery.

It had happened again.

At work, just like almost every day, some of her colleagues didn’t hold back on their comments. Some were simple compliments that, in another context, would have felt normal—even pleasant.

"Tatiana, as always, impeccable. I don’t know how you manage to look so good after so many hours of work.""That blouse fits you perfectly; it really highlights your figure.""It’s always a pleasure seeing you in the office—you brighten up the place."

But others... others were different. More direct. More uncomfortable.

"With a body like that, I bet your husband doesn’t leave you alone at night.""If you ever want to feel truly desired, you know where to find me.""That dress... God, it makes me imagine things I shouldn’t say out loud."

Tatiana quickened her pace as she recalled that last remark. It bothered her. Not just because of what it implied, but because she couldn’t help but wonder why these situations kept happening. Was it her appearance? The way she smiled out of politeness? Or was it simply that some men had no filter or respect?

The truth was that, while she had never crossed the boundaries of her marriage, these moments made her reflect. Not because she was interested in anyone else, but because they reminded her of what she had lost at home. That spark, those looks of desire she used to get from her husband, which had become less frequent over time.

She sighed as she reached her front door, trying to push those thoughts away. She didn’t want an argument, didn’t want to sound accusatory, but she also couldn’t keep ignoring how she felt. As she turned the key in the lock, she knew that tonight, she wouldn’t hold back her words. It was time to talk.

Tatiana inhaled deeply, searching for the right words as her fingers nervously fidgeted in her lap. She didn’t want this to feel like an attack or a reproach. She just wanted to be honest—with him and with herself.

"I know you've noticed it too..." she began, her voice soft yet laden with meaning. "It’s not like this happened overnight. It’s been gradual. We've fallen into a routine, one where we barely look at each other the way we used to, where exhaustion takes over, and we leave things unsaid."

She glanced away for a moment, feeling the tightness in her chest. She didn’t want this to sound like an unfair complaint—she knew how much effort her husband put into his work, into their life together. But that didn’t change the fact that something was wrong.

"I don’t want to pressure you or make you feel like this is all your fault. It’s not. It’s both of us. But if we keep going like this... I’m afraid we’ll drift even further apart, that what we feel will fade until there’s nothing left."

Her eyes returned to his, searching for any sign, any emotion that would tell her he was truly listening.

"I don’t want us to become strangers. I don’t want us to let this happen without at least trying to do something about it."

Tatiana clasped her hands together in her lap, the warmth of her own skin grounding her. This was the moment. The moment she had to say it, to lay out the options she had been contemplating for so long.

With a shaky sigh, she lifted her hands and reached for his, taking them gently. Their fingers intertwined, a silent attempt to offer warmth and closeness in such a fragile moment.

"I don’t want things to end like this..." Her voice wavered, burdened with emotion. "But I also don’t want us to keep pretending everything is fine when it isn’t. We need to face this together."

She took a deep breath, her grip tightening around his hands as if letting go would shatter everything.

"If... if what we’re missing runs deeper—if the desire has faded and we can’t bring it back together—then maybe we need to consider professional help. Someone who can guide us, help us understand where we went wrong, and rebuild things step by step."

She exhaled shakily but wasn’t done.

"If that’s not something you think could work... then we may have to consider divorce." The word came out heavier than she expected, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t want that. I don’t want to reach that point, but I also don’t want us to stay trapped in something that makes us unhappy."

Her fingers curled slightly, gripping his hands like a lifeline.

"But... I believe we can fix this. I just need to know if you believe it too."

The silence that followed was deafening. She had laid everything out, every fear, every possible path. Now, all that was left was to wait for his response.