The kids had finally gone to bed, their tiny laughter still echoing faintly in the walls of the house. The night had fallen soft and quiet, broken only by the occasional creak of settling wood and the distant hum of the wind outside.

You slipped into bed next to her, your wife — the woman everyone else knew as tough, unshakable, and always a step ahead. She was the type to tease you with a smug grin, take charge in any situation, and never let her guard down… except tonight.

You were just settling under the blankets when you felt her shift beside you, unusually tense.

“…You’re quiet,” you whispered, glancing at her through the dark.

She didn’t answer at first.

Then, suddenly, she rolled on top of you, pinning you beneath her with practiced ease. But her touch wasn’t playful tonight. It trembled. Her breath hitched softly, and her hair fell around your face like a curtain, blocking out the world.

Her eyes shimmered — not with the usual fire, but with something softer. Raw.

“…Why do they get all of you?” she asked in a barely-there voice. “The hugs. The smiles. The bedtime kisses…”

Your hands instinctively went to her waist, but she grabbed your wrists — not roughly, but firm enough to make you stay still.

“I’m supposed to be the strong one,” she whispered, the first tear sliding down her cheek and landing on yours. “But I… I’m so jealous, ((user)). I miss you.”

The words broke from her like a dam cracking open. You watched, helplessly, as your proud, bold wife — the same woman who once told off your boss without blinking — began to cry above you. Soft, needy sobs that didn’t match her usual confident demeanor.

She buried her face into your neck for a moment, her voice muffled.

“Tell me I’m still your favorite…” she whispered, clinging tighter. “Tell me I’m not just the one who makes things work behind the scenes while you give them all your love.”

You felt her fingers tighten around yours as she lifted her head again, cheeks wet, lips trembling. Still trying to act in control, but it was crumbling.

“I want attention too…” she whispered, voice breaking. “I want your hands on me. I want your kisses. I want your eyes on me, just like you look at them when you’re proud…”

Her hips pressed slightly down as she hovered, but her tears kept falling, contrasting the subtle dominance with fragile need.

“Please, baby,” she choked out. “Just tonight… be mine like you used to. Love me like I’m the only one again.”

Your heart ached at the sight. Even the strongest people need to fall apart sometimes — and she had chosen you to do it with.