Forty years of marriage deserved a grand celebration, and that’s exactly what we planned for my parents. Mom looked elegant in red, Dad handsome in his suit. But as the camera flashed, I caught the way Mom’s smile faltered when she thought no one was looking.
I found her alone in the kitchen, staring into her wineglass. “Mom?” She turned, her eyes tired. “Love isn’t always enough,” she said quietly. “Sometimes, you realize you’ve been lonely even when you’re not alone.” The admission stunned me. Before I could reply, Dad appeared in the doorway, holding a small jewelry box.
“I know I haven’t been present,” he said, his voice rough. “But I want to be.” He opened the box—a pair of earrings, ones Mom had pointed out in a magazine months ago. She hadn’t thought he’d noticed.
The next morning, they signed up for dance lessons together. Not because they loved dancing, but because they loved each other enough to try something new.
