I never thought I’d be the kind of man to ask myself this question. I’ve been married for fifteen years. We’ve built a home, a life, four amazing children together. I’ve always believed we had something solid, something real. But lately, I can’t ignore the feeling in my gut that something’s changed. That something’s off. It’s been two months now, and I can’t shake the tension that creeps into our everyday moments—the small silences, the distant looks, the texts she doesn’t let me see. I feel like a stranger in my own home sometimes.

It started subtly. A few late nights here and there. She’d say she had errands or wanted to get some time to herself. Which, fine, I get it. She’s a mom of four, she deserves space. But the pattern grew. Now it’s late night “drives,” phone calls she takes in the other room, messages she replies to with that tilted screen thing like she’s trying to shield it from my eyes. When I ask who it was, she gives short answers. Vague ones. And then changes the subject.

She used to tell me everything—how her day went, the people she talked to, little random things she saw online. Now, it feels like I have to beg for a conversation. Half the time, she’s scrolling on her phone or texting someone while I’m talking, nodding along distractedly. And the phone, man… it’s never out of her reach. Not even when she showers. Not even when she sleeps. She used to leave it lying around, no big deal. Now it’s always face down or tucked into her sweater pocket. And maybe I’m just being paranoid, but that stuff adds up.

What’s worse is that I can’t even talk to anyone about it. I can’t exactly go around asking people, “Hey, do you think my wife’s cheating on me?” It feels like betrayal just to say it out loud. I haven’t told my friends, and God knows I’d never bring it up to our kids. They’re still young, still looking at us like we’re the example of love and stability. I don’t want to take that away from them. Not unless I know for sure. But not knowing is driving me insane.

I’ve thought about going through her phone. I haven’t yet, but the temptation is there. Late at night, when she’s asleep and I’m lying next to her staring at the ceiling, wondering if the woman I love is lying to me… I think about it. About just unlocking it and seeing for myself. But then I ask myself—if I have to do that, hasn’t something already broken? Even if there’s no affair, the trust is already crumbling. I don’t want to be the suspicious husband. I want to believe in her. I want to believe in us.

But she’s not the same lately. There’s a coldness sometimes. Or maybe it’s just a distance. We don’t laugh like we used to. The inside jokes, the little gestures, even intimacy—it’s all changed. It’s not just less, it’s… different. Like she’s somewhere else when we’re together. And when I try to reach her, she puts on a smile, tells me she’s tired or stressed, says I’m imagining things. Maybe I am. But maybe I’m not.

I’m not perfect. I know that. I’ve made mistakes, I’ve been distracted, I’ve taken her for granted at times. Maybe she’s feeling unseen. Maybe there’s someone else who’s making her feel special, who’s giving her attention I stopped giving. And that possibility wrecks me. Not just because I’d be hurt, but because it means I failed her. Failed us. I keep thinking back to how we used to be—how we danced in the kitchen, how we made plans for the future, how we looked at each other like there was no one else in the world.

Now I look at her and I see someone who might be keeping secrets. Someone who still kisses me goodbye but doesn’t look me in the eyes. And I don’t know how much longer I can live like this—trapped between doubt and denial, wondering if I’m losing her day by day and just too scared to confront it. I don’t even know what I’d do if she admitted it. I don’t know if I’d leave, or if I’d try to fix it. I just know that the silence between us is getting louder.

So yeah, I don’t have answers. Only questions that eat at me every day. Is she cheating? Or am I just afraid of what it means if she’s not but still doesn’t love me the same anymore? I don’t know which answer would hurt more. All I know is, something’s wrong. And I’m terrified to find out what it really is.

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