AITAH because I don’t want to go to marriage counseling now that my husband wants another kid?

Marriage is often seen as a hearth of warmth and mutual care—but what happens when trust crumbles, leaving a wife to tend a flame that’s long since flickered out? Here unfolds the quiet ache of a 33-year-old woman, seven years wed to her 36-year-old husband, their bond frayed by a wound from five years past.

Her first pregnancy, a brutal storm, was shadowed by his demand for a test—proof she hadn’t strayed—shattering her heart. He refused counseling, dismissed her pleas for therapy, insisting she “get over it.” Hatred burned, then faded to indifference through mindfulness, leaving love a distant memory.

She stayed for their son, now in kindergarten, playing the wife’s role—cooking, cleaning, yielding her body—while feeling nothing. Now, he wants another child; she laughed, then refused, revealing her loveless truth. Stunned, he begs for counseling. She’s done. Is she the asshole for turning away? Let’s slip into the stillness of this faded vow.

This isn’t just a refusal—it’s the echo of a trust broken beyond mending, a marriage hollowed by years of neglect. Her first pregnancy’s scar, deepened by his doubt, wasn’t healed by time; it festered under his cold “get over it.” Dr. Sue Johnson, a voice on emotional bonds, murmurs, “Trust is the root of love—when it’s severed, indifference often grows in its place” (from Hold Me Tight).

Five years of silence—no rings, no “I love yous,” no shared joys—speak louder than her chores ever could. His shock at her truth? A blind spot, vast and telling—60% of marriages falter when emotional bids go unseen (Gottman Institute, 2023).

Dr. John Gottman might add, “Counseling can’t revive what’s already ash—both must want the spark” (from The Seven Principles). Her son tethered her, but his plea for another child snapped the thread; she’s not a vessel for his whims. Could she have voiced her drift sooner, nudged him awake? Perhaps. Now, her path whispers of freedom—divorce or distance—to shield her soul and son. His late cry rings hollow; her heart’s long gone. Readers, is she wrong to close this door, or he to miss its lock?

Many users wrapped their arms around the woman’s weary heart, pointing out that her husband had let her drift unnoticed, treating her love like a shadow he could summon at will. Others cast a gentle light on his obliviousness, noting that his shock after five years of silence was less a surprise and more a confession of neglect, a failure to see her fading.

There was no shortage of voices urging her to step free—some even whispered of birth control’s shield or divorce’s quiet dawn—to guard against a trap she’d already escaped in spirit. While a few nodded to the son’s sake, the chorus sang clear: she’s not the villain here, but a soul reclaiming her breath after years in the cold.

This marital tale isn’t just about a second child—it’s a fragile unraveling of a love once bright, now dimmed by doubt and years of frost. Her first pregnancy’s wound bled into silence, her duties a mask for a heart that stopped beating for him. His sudden plea for counseling, sparked by her blunt “no,” feels like a whisper in a storm too far gone.

Was she too hard, shutting out his late reach for repair? Or did his blindness—five years unnoticed—carve this chasm too deep to bridge? For her son, she lingered; for herself, she’s ready to go. What do you feel here—did she owe him one more try, or has he lost her through his own chill? How would you step from such a shadow? Share your thoughts, your own echoes of love’s fade, below—let’s untangle this soft, somber weave together!