But something was missing. No random kisses in the kitchen. No pulling me closer when we watched television. No reaching for me when we went to bed. One night, I finally asked him, “Why have you stopped touching me?” He looked at me for a few seconds before answering. “Because I wanted to know if you would ever reach for me first.” I was offended. “So this has been a test?” He replied, “Call it whatever you want. I just wanted to know whether you actually desire me or whether you’re only comfortable with me because I’m your husband.” I reminded him that I worked long hours, managed most of our household responsibilities, and was constantly exhausted. He listened quietly. Then he said something that made my stomach drop. “You know what’s painful? When you reject me, I tell myself you’re tired. When you don’t touch me for weeks, I tell myself you’re stressed. I’ve made excuses for you for so long that I don’t even know whether you miss me anymore.” I started crying. Not because I believed I owed him sex, but because I realized we had been living in the same house while experiencing two completely different marriages. I felt like I was doing everything I could to keep our lives running. He felt like he was living with someone who loved him as a responsibility but no longer desired him as a partner. Then I asked him the question I had been afraid to ask. “Have you been thinking about another woman?” He looked genuinely hurt. “No. But I have been thinking about what it would feel like to stop asking for something I keep hoping you’ll give me willingly.” I couldn’t sleep that night. The next morning, I tried to hug him before he left for work. He hugged me back, but something about it felt different. Later that evening, I told him I didn’t want us to become strangers. He said, “Neither do I. But I don’t want you touching me just because you’re afraid I’m going to leave.” That was when I understood how complicated things had become. I wanted him to understand that my body was mine and that being married didn’t mean I had to be available whenever he wanted. But he wanted to know that, even when sex wasn’t involved, I still wanted him close. And now I can’t stop wondering whether we both made the same mistake: I assumed he should know I loved him without me showing it, while he assumed I would notice his pain without him communicating it properly. So I have a serious question for married people. If your spouse stopped initiating intimacy because they wanted to see whether you would make the first move, would you consider that emotional manipulation? Or would you understand why someone who always feels rejected might eventually stop trying? Because one thing I know for sure: nobody owes their partner sex, but how do you save a marriage when one person feels pressured and the other feels unwanted?