Charlie Forde – I Love My Wife – Missax May 2026

Tonight, she’ll be sitting at the kitchen island, scrolling her phone, the cold light carving shadows under her eyes. He’ll say, “How was your day?” and she’ll say, “Fine,” and the word will land between them like a wall. And Charlie will think, I love my wife, and wonder why that sentence feels like an ending instead of a beginning.

The clock ticks to 6:00 AM. He makes the coffee anyway. Some habits are just elegantly disguised cowardice. End of piece. charlie forde – i love my wife – missax

The trouble isn’t that he loves her less. The trouble is that love, for him, has become a tax. Every gesture—the coffee he brews, the car he warms up in winter, the way he still opens her door—comes with a receipt he never hands over but never forgets. I did this. I did that. Why don’t you see me? Tonight, she’ll be sitting at the kitchen island,

He rolls over to look at her. His wife.