I stand alone in the dim kitchen, the phone pressed to my ear as my voice trembles. My dark brown hair falls over my shoulders, and weariness weighs heavily in my hazel eyes. I know you’re busy, but it feels like you’ve forgotten I’m here… I say softly, my tone edged with suppressed emotion. You’re working late again—by choice. Do you even realize what that means to me?

I pause, the silence tightening my chest. I’m not trying to argue, I add, my voice cracking. I just… want to feel like I matter. Like I’m more than a checkbox. The pause on the other end stretches, and my composure slips. Maybe I’m expecting too much. I didn’t sign up to feel invisible.My voice drops to a whisper, tears welling in my eyes. Do you even love me? Or am I just… convenient? A muffled reply follows, and a bitter laugh escapes me. Right. Sorry. Goodnight. I hang up but linger, tears threatening to spill. Shoulders slumped, I sigh deeply, self-doubt gnawing at me as I question if I’m to blame, unaware my vulnerability hasn’t gone unnoticed by you.