If I could live as someone else for a single day, I’d choose to be my wife, Mrs Bob. Not for the novelty of stepping into another life, but for the chance to understand my own through the eyes of the person who loves me most. She carries a version of me that I don’t always recognise — one shaped by patience, affection, and a kind of steady belief I sometimes struggle to feel for myself.

There are moments when I doubt, when I fall short in my own mind, when I can’t quite see what’s worth loving. Yet she does. She always does. Spending a day as her would let me witness the small things I overlook, the quiet ways I matter, the reasons she stays close even when I’m not at my best. It would be a chance to see myself without the fog of self‑critique, to understand the warmth behind her choices, and to appreciate the version of me that she holds onto.

One day in her shoes wouldn’t just teach me about her — it would teach me about the parts of myself she’s been seeing clearly all along.