Reclaiming us turned out to be harder than fixing schedules or dividing chores. We had already learned how to cooperate again—who picked up the kids, who cooked on which nights, who got quiet time when. We had learned how to talk without shouting, how to pause instead of react.
On the surface, we looked repaired. But beneath that surface was something untouched. Intimacy had always been the most fragile part of us. It carried too much history.
Too many misunderstandings. Too many moments where silence had done more damage than anger ever could.
Alisha said healing wasn't just about stopping the pain. It was about reclaiming pleasure without fear. Pleasure without memory barging in uninvited. Pleasure without performance.
"You don't need to fix s*x," she told us calmly, as if that state
