One night, after a relaxing shower, I found my 3-year-old son crying and covered in red paint while my wife sat nearby, glued to her iPad. Confused and frustrated, I rushed to comfort him, only to discover he had spilled paint everywhere and wet himself. My son’s words stung: “Mommy didn’t check on me.”
This revelation hit hard. I had assumed my wife was trying, but now I saw the deeper issue—she seemed distant and uncaring. After a rough night, I decided to stay with my sister for a bit, hoping to figure things out. I called my mother-in-law, who later revealed my wife was struggling with depression.
As weeks went by, my wife began therapy and slowly started to open up. One day, she admitted how lost she felt and how it had affected our family. Gradually, she began painting again, reconnecting with herself, and mending her bond with our son.
Though our family wasn’t perfect, we were healing together, and I could finally see the woman I fell in love with return.
