You got there. Whatever the mark was, you hit it. The title, the number, the house, the reputation, the life that looks from the outside like a man who figured it out.
You don't ask for help. You never have. What if the instinct you trust most, the one that built your career, isn't strength but a myth you inherited and never questioned, the exact thing guaranteeing nothing in you actually changes?
Something has shifted in the room with your wife, and you've been watching it happen without knowing exactly what to do about it. It's called respect.
You carry the team, the money, the family, and you call it strength. What if the exhaustion is the bill for a definition of strength that was never strength?