Saving our marriage

Alex's POV

"Love isn't about obligation, Alex. It's about connection."

That's what my mother's voice whispered in my head, even hours after her call, even after a night supposedly dedicated to reigniting the spark with Hunter. I'd spent the evening before lost in a digital labyrinth of articles and videos, determined to unlock the secrets of intimacy. Position after position, tip after tip, I absorbed it all, convinced that the right technique could bridge the growing distance between us.

Excited, I'd presented my findings to Hunter, a spark of hope flickering in my chest. We'd talked, laughed, and even managed to translate the clinical diagrams into something resembling passion. The night should have been a turning point, a rediscovery.

But standing there in the bathroom, staring at my reflection, the truth crashed down. The movements were there, the actions performed, but the deep, soul-stirring connection was missing. A hollow ache resonated within me, amplified by the sterile porcelain and harsh fluorescent light. My mother's words echoed again, sharper this time. "Are you truly in love... or just indebted?"

The question felt like a punch to the gut. I wanted to love Hunter. I believed I loved him. He had, after all, saved me in a way. But was that enough?

The seed of doubt sprouted into a thorny vine, twisting around my heart. Even the thought that I was willing to let Hunter marry someone else, that I was prepared to sacrifice my own happiness for his – under the guise of understanding his desire for polygamy – felt less like love and more like penance.

Was I truly loving him, or was I just trying to repay a debt that could never be settled?