My husband begged me to throw him a huge 40th birthday party, so I spent weeks planning the perfect night for him. When he finally walked in, he wasn’t alone—and by the end of the evening, the gift I gave him was nothing like what he expected.
I’m 38, my name is Claire, and until a few months ago, I thought I had a pretty ordinary suburban life. Ordinary marriage. Ordinary stress. Ordinary routines.
My husband, Ryan, had just turned 40. We’d been married for twelve years. Two kids. Mortgage. School drop-offs. Costco runs. PTA emails that never stop. Nothing glamorous, but I genuinely believed we were solid.
Ryan loved attention. Big gestures. Being celebrated.