05/14/2026
The fight is rarely about the phone.
It’s about the small, repeated moment of looking up and finding your person already gone... eyes down, half-listening, somewhere you can’t follow.
Eventually, you stop reaching. You stop sharing the small things. You start to wonder what happened to the closeness, the chosenness, the sense of being someone’s favourite person to come home to.
If this is the season you’re in, you’re not asking for too much. You’re asking to be seen. By the person who promised to look.