“A Week of Sleepless Nights Transformed My Husband. My Mother Says He Was Simply Broken”

It started subtly, the changes in Jeffrey. He was always the kind of man who could light up a room with his smile, the kind who would surprise me with breakfast in bed on a dreary Monday morning. But those days seem like a distant memory now, overshadowed by the recent, sleepless nights that have left deep circles under his eyes and a permanent frown etched on his face.

The trouble began when Jeffrey’s company launched a new project. He was excited at first, eager to prove his worth to his bosses. But the project was more demanding than anyone had anticipated. Deadlines were tight, the team was understaffed, and Jeffrey began staying late at the office, often coming home long after Zoey and I had gone to bed.

At first, I was supportive. I understood the importance of this project to his career. But as weeks turned into months, the late nights became a norm, and the stress started to take its toll on him. He became irritable, snapping at the smallest things. Our conversations, once filled with laughter and plans for the future, were now short and strained. Zoey, who adored her father, began to withdraw, confused by his sudden changes.

One night, about a week ago, everything came to a head. Jeffrey came home later than usual, his steps heavy and his eyes red. I had waited up for him, worried but also frustrated. The air between us was charged as I asked him if he was okay. He didn’t answer, just poured himself a drink and sat silently at the kitchen table.

The silence was unbearable. I pressed him, asking if there was something more he wanted to talk about. That’s when he exploded, his voice a mixture of pain and anger. He confessed that he felt trapped, that his job was sucking the life out of him and he didn’t know how to escape. I reached out to comfort him, but he shrugged me off, storming out of the room.

The next morning, Jeffrey was gone. He had packed a bag and left for his parents’ house without saying a word. I called him several times, but he didn’t answer. Finally, his mother picked up. She told me Jeffrey needed some time to sort himself out, that the man I was describing over the phone was not her son. “He’s simply broken,” she said, a note of finality in her voice.

Now, it’s just Zoey and me. My mother comes over when she can, but she has her own life to lead. She tells me that perhaps this is for the best, that Jeffrey needs to find himself again. But in the quiet of the night, when I’m alone with my thoughts and Zoey’s soft breathing, I can’t help but feel abandoned.

I don’t know what the future holds. I don’t know if the man I married will come back to us, or if the sleepless nights have changed him forever. All I know is that the warmth we once shared has been replaced by a chilling uncertainty, and the silence in our home is louder than ever.