I used to think that love was enough.
I remember standing in our London flat, staring at my reflection in the mirror. I had followed my partner across borders, across time zones, across a life I used to recognize. But that night, I didn’t recognize myself.
We had just moved. Again. Paris this time. My partner was thriving—new job, new colleagues, new purpose. And me? I was trying to decide if it was too early to go to bed just so the day would end.
This isn’t how I imagined it.
Nobody talks about the silent unraveling that happens in expat relationships. You think moving abroad together will make you a stronger team. And sometimes, it does. But for so many women, for so many trailing partners, it’s the beginning of something else: loneliness in a relationship, resentment that creeps in like water under a locked door, and a terrifying question that lingers at the back of your mind…
"What if this is it? What if I’ll never feel like myself again?"
The world sees your life as glamorous."You’re so lucky!" they say."What an adventure!" they gush.
But here’s what they don’t see: