Ethan thought he knew what was wrong.
He’d been married to Laura for twelve years. They had a nice house in the suburbs, two kids, and a shared Netflix account they never finished shows on. On the surface, they were fine. Perfect, even. But lately, there was one thing Ethan couldn’t stop noticing…
Whenever they were intimate, Laura never kissed him.
Not on the lips. Not even by accident.
At first, he brushed it off — stress, kids, exhaustion. But the longer it went on, the heavier it felt. Intimacy without kissing wasn’t really intimacy at all. It was… mechanical.
That Saturday night, after the kids were asleep, Ethan decided to bring it up.
Laura was sitting on the bed, scrolling through her phone, hair damp from the shower. She wore one of his old T-shirts, the hem barely skimming her thighs. He leaned against the doorway, watching her for a moment before speaking.
“Can I ask you something… personal?”
She looked up, smiling faintly. “Since when do you ask permission?”
“I just… noticed you don’t really… kiss me anymore. During… y’know.”
Laura froze for a split second. It was subtle, but Ethan saw it — the flicker in her eyes, the tiny hesitation before she laughed softly.
“You noticed that, huh?” she said, setting the phone aside.
He nodded. “Yeah. I… I miss it.”
Laura pulled her knees up under her chin, hugging them loosely. Her nails grazed her bare skin absentmindedly as she stared at the floor.
“It’s not you,” she said finally, her voice quiet.
Ethan sat down beside her, close enough for their thighs to touch. He felt the warmth of her skin, the faint trace of lavender from her shower gel. He lowered his voice.
“Then what is it?”
Laura exhaled slowly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. The movement was slow, almost deliberate, like she was buying time.
“I read something,” she admitted. “About… why women sometimes stop kissing during sex.”
His brows furrowed. “You read something?”
She gave him a faint, embarrassed smile. “It said… sometimes it’s because kissing makes things too intimate. Like… it forces you to feel everything. And sometimes,” she hesitated, “that’s scary.”
Ethan blinked, caught off guard.
“Scary?” he asked softly.
Laura nodded, finally meeting his eyes. “When I kiss you… I can’t hide. You see me. All of me. And sometimes… I don’t feel good enough to be seen like that.”
Her voice cracked slightly on the last word, and suddenly Ethan understood. It wasn’t that she didn’t want him — it was that she’d been carrying something she hadn’t said out loud.
Slow motion.
He reached for her hand. His fingertips brushed hers lightly, pausing to give her a chance to pull away. She didn’t. Her palm opened, welcoming his touch, and he felt her pulse quicken beneath his thumb.
He leaned closer, his voice dropping. “Laura… I don’t want perfect. I want you.”
Her lashes fluttered as she looked at him — hesitant, vulnerable, searching his face for any trace of doubt.
Then he kissed her.
Not rushed. Not demanding. Just soft, slow, deliberate — like rediscovering a language they used to speak fluently but had forgotten over the years.
At first, she stayed still. Then her shoulders relaxed, and he felt her lips respond, tentative but warm. Her fingers slid along his jawline, tracing it gently, like she was memorizing him all over again.
For the first time in months, Laura kissed him back like she meant it.
They didn’t rush after that. They slowed everything down — letting each touch, each glance, each shift of breath carry weight. Ethan’s hand found the small of her back, feeling the curve of her spine beneath the thin cotton of his T-shirt. Her nails grazed his neck, featherlight but deliberate.
When she pulled away for just a moment, her forehead resting against his, she whispered, “I didn’t know I needed this… until right now.”
By the end of the night, Ethan realized something important:
It was never about the act itself.
It was about connection.
For Laura, kissing wasn’t just kissing. It was trust. It was surrender. It was letting him in where she’d built walls.
And as he held her afterward, her breath soft and even against his chest, he understood why she’d avoided it for so long…
and why she wouldn’t anymore.
