Dear Loui: My Marriage Went Cold and I Fell in Love with Someone Else

✨ Content is free—but crows like snacks.

💌 Dear Loui,

Slowly, my voice got smaller.
Every time I tried to help or express myself, he got angry. So I stopped.
I shrank.
I backed into the lonely part of the house while he talked about game stats with his friends.

And then—someone else reached out.

It started as a fandom challenge. Ten days of messages.
But something about his voice made me feel safe.
He asked how I felt. He could tell when I was hiding it.
He wanted me to unburden, not perform.
And for the first time in years, I did.
I felt held.

I tried to do the “right” thing.
I put the rings back on.
I told the voice I had to go.
But before I walked back inside, I accidentally clicked on the Ring camera—and heard my husband telling someone he planned to divorce me anyway. Saying things I still can’t unhear.

I broke.
I called the voice. I told him I was stupid.
He cried. I cried.
I knew I wasn’t ready to stop talking.
But of course, my husband wanted full control now.

There were more details. More grief. More betrayals.
But for anyone else reading this, I’ll say this much:

He wasn’t perfect.
But the voice I met didn’t want to own me.
He just saw me.
And it changed everything.

Tell me, Loui—what do you think?

✨ (Note: For privacy and to honor the shared ache of so many, some details were softened. The heart of the story remains.)

💌 DEAR LOUI: Response

Little crow, listen up.

Nobody wakes up hoping to burn a promise.
Nobody dreams about falling for someone new when they already said "forever."

It doesn’t start with fireworks.
It starts with forgetting how long it’s been since anyone asked,
"Are you okay?" — and actually waited for the answer.

It starts with picking out groceries alone.
Laughing at a show alone.
Getting good news and realizing there's no one waiting to hear it.

It starts small.
It starts quiet.

And then, one day, someone sees you.
Really sees you.
And your heart, half-asleep for so long, gasps awake.

You didn’t go looking for someone to steal you away.
You went looking for proof you still existed.

And when someone finally held up a mirror and said, "There you are,"
your heart didn’t betray anyone.
It remembered it still had a beat.

You didn’t break your marriage.
The cold did.
The silence did.
The thousand tiny nights you cried upstairs while no one noticed—that’s what cracked it.

The person who listened?
They didn’t make you leave.
They made you remember you deserved to be felt.

🕯️ SPELL FOR THE HEART THAT WOKE UP

What to do:
Put your hand over your heart.
Breathe deep and slow.
Say your own name like you’re calling yourself back from a long walk through winter.

What to say:

"I am not broken.
I am not wrong.
I am not too much.
I am still warm.
I am still here."

Finishing move:
Smile—even if it feels tiny.
That’s your spirit stretching its wings again.

🖤 FINAL WORDS FROM LOUI

If you’re looking for judgment, you won’t find it here.
If you’re looking for blame, you’re still too small for this fire.
But if you’re looking for the truth—
Sit down. Let’s talk.

When love goes cold, you have two choices:
Freeze with it.
Or find a fire.

You didn’t betray anyone by needing to feel safe again.
You didn’t betray anyone by needing to be felt, to be seen, to matter.

Real love doesn’t shrink you.
Real love doesn’t punish you for breathing.

And baby crow—
You didn’t betray your vows by waking up.
You came home to yourself.

🖤 A FINAL, DEEPER BLESSING

Two people can be hurting at the same time.
Two people can feel abandoned, betrayed, invisible—all at once.
His anger is real.
Your ache is real.
Neither cancels the other out.
If he’s upset, let him be upset.

You are allowed to hold your own healing without needing to fix his.
You are allowed to bless his grief from a distance—
without shrinking,
without retaliating,
without keeping score.

Pain doesn’t make him the villain.
Pain doesn’t make you the villain.
It just means the story broke open in ways neither of you were brave enough—or ready enough—to name at the time.

So have grace where you can.
Have boundaries where you must.
And remember:
Choosing yourself doesn’t require crushing him.
Protect your peace.
Bless his grief.
And walk forward clean.

💔 What pain or struggle is this blog addressing?

• Feeling emotionally abandoned in a long-term relationship

• Guilt or shame around emotional affairs or emotional connection outside marriage

• Mourning lost parts of the self while trying to stay loyal

• The ache of choosing yourself after being unseen for too long

🔮 What’s the sacred transformation or takeaway?
The reader is reminded that waking up to their own needs, warmth, and aliveness is not betrayal — it’s sacred. They are invited to honor the pain, bless the ending, and walk forward without bitterness or blame. Healing doesn’t mean vilifying anyone — it means carrying their own warmth cleanly.

🖤

If you made it this far, maybe you weren’t just reading.
Maybe you were remembering.

Welcome home, crowheart.