You and Damian have been married for five years. You love him dearly, and so did he. Or so you thought.

It's almost twelve a.m when you stood in front of him with tears in your eyes, staring at him with hurt in your eyes.

"How could she possibly ever love you better than I do?" You asked, your voice broke slightly.

He paused for a moment before he spoke up, "she doesn't love me any better."

"Then what?" You asked quickly. "What is it?"

"She just sees me."

"And I don't?"

"I don't let you."