I put down my fork with a clang that broke the silence. Looking across at my husband, it was like someone had washed away all his coloring. Like he’d been through the wrong laundry cycle and was only a shadow of who he had been before. I didn’t pick up my fork again. I had been dreading this day. Of course, I knew it was coming, and you always think that you are somehow prepared just by knowing. That by the time that dreaded thing rolls around, you’ll be able to say, “Ah, well, I knew it was coming.” And then, somehow, it won't hurt as much. It’s not a shock. It’s fine.

But it’s not fine. As my husband puts down his fork and his eyes briefly flit over mine, I know it’s happened to him too.

The only sound now comes from our two children blissfully tucking into their vegetables. Just like we taught them. They haven’t noticed the shift in the atmosphere. How could they? How could they know that the very notion of Mummy and Daddy putting down their utensils and staring off into space marked the end of their love?

I didn’t expect it to feel like this. For it to feel as if someone had turned on a tap inside my chest and drained out all the happiness, security, and optimism it held. I don’t feel completely empty. The love for my kids is still there. The last drop in the tank.

I rise from the table and realise my hands are shaking. He follows me to the kitchen. For a moment, we don’t say anything at all. All we can do is process this new feeling.

“What happened?” he asks. A lump catches in my throat. Of course, this must feel even stranger for him. One moment all he felt was love for me. The next, it was gone. He doesn’t know about the fairies. He didn’t know that we were under a temporary spell.

“What do you mean?” My voice is barely above a whisper.

“Something changed just now.” Finally, he looks at me. I’m afraid to look too deeply into his eyes, but he doesn’t look away. Instead, he searches for whatever it was he thought he saw in me. Of course, he won’t find it now. I put it there. And now it’s gone.

“What happens now?”

“What do you mean?” I seem to be unable to say anything else.

“I knew I was under some kind of spell…”

A few moments pass before I remember to breathe.

“You knew?”

“One moment, I felt one way about you, the next, I was head over heels. Did you think I wouldn’t realise something was up?”

“I’m sorry… I thought for sure you…”

What excuse can I possibly come up with to make this right?

“So let’s do this for real this time.” He takes my hands and squeezes them.

“No rose-tinted glasses. We’re better than that. Just the two of us.”