Relighting the Fire: Part 1 Steve laced up his running shoes in the dim hallway light, the house still quiet at 6 a.m. Thirty years of marriage had carved comfortable grooves into their life—Nicki’s red hair fanned across the pillow each night, the way she’d murmur “love you” even half-asleep. But those grooves had deepened into ruts. Sex had become rare, then absent. Menopause had stolen her fire, she said; it left her d...

The next night followed the same delicious pattern. After a quiet dinner—pasta, garlic bread, a bottle of red—Steve yawned theatrically in the lounge. “Another long one,” he said, stretching. “I’m shattered. Early night again?” Nicki met his gaze, her green eyes sparkling with mischief beneath the lamplight. She wore her short navy silk nightie under her robe, the fabric whispering against her slim thighs as she stood. “D...