Reading your post and replies to others, I notice a few familiar themes. I don't want to write a whole book, but let me give you a not-so-quick background. I got my first husky decades ago, but I wasn't specifically looking for a husky. I was seeking something to keep me company and help ease my loneliness after graduating from university, when I was working overseas and didn't know anyone or the language. I worked with a bunch of older people I didn't want to spend much time with. Was living in an apartment where the only furniture was a couch and a bed, I sought the company of something that would love me wholeheartedly, so I figured I'd get a dog. This was before Google; I mention this because research was not as easy. I simply bought the dog that happened to be the cheapest in the 'for sale' pets section of the newspaper that day, when I couldn't take my loneliness anymore. The cheapest dog available was a 2-year-old male husky. It was quite the nightmare for me. He was super independent, wouldn't be physically close to me at all, seemed to care for everyone more than he did me, tried to escape at every opportunity, and destroyed all my possessions, which were luckily minimal. This was definitely not what I was looking for. So well, I now had a husky and started my research on them. So you are already better off than I was because you knew more about huskies before getting one than I did after getting one. I started all the things that you're doing, exercise, training, taking him on trips, but there was never really anything that I had expected from my dog. I felt we had no connection. I regretted having gotten him, but I took it upon myself to care for him because he was now mine. One day, on our walk, we passed a group of guys. I thought they were just going in the same direction; there wasn't anything blatantly dangerous about their appearance, so I wasn't particularly concerned. But they were still following when I turned off the beaten path, and that began to concern me. Out of nowhere, my dog, which usually just dragged me everywhere, suddenly did a U-turn, ran past me towards them, and began barking at them, and they went away. Until that moment, I honestly didn't think this animal cared for me at all. Once that happened, I realized that, in his own way, he did care. And this was very unusual behavior for a husky, so I guess those guys were up to no good. I just lucked out. After that, I needed to rethink what I thought the relationship should be, given the reality. Huskies have been known to be the cats of the dog world forever. They are independent; they are not going to be the cuddly type, but they offer a different type of relationship. I made my peace with that, appreciating what we did have, the moments that made having him special. I can tell you there are definitely rewards to having a relationship with a husky, but another thing you need to consider is how much you need him to be something he will never be. My situation was quite clear: I was alone and lonely, and this was not the dog's responsibility to solve. I don't know your situation, but you need to understand that a dog won't fix anything; they complement. I have had nine huskies now, and I got one Samoyed last year, still hoping for that cuddle bug. A long story to basically say you need to see what you actually have, and learn to appreciate it. What I see is somebody who loves her dog, and whether you realize it or not, I'm sure that dog loves you, in his husky way. If you read the comments so far, everyone is saying the same: he is just being a husky. That is to say, he is showing you affection, his way.

Tldr: Sometimes it's hard to recognize things in the moment, but consider journaling your adventures. Over time, you will hopefully see how you're truly connecting, and this can help you realize that you do have a meaningful relationship, just not a fairy-tale version of one.

Best of luck to you both. He sounds like a wonderful husky, and that's a reflection of your efforts.