Page 17 of Broken Vows

He shakes his head, not meeting my eyes. “I don’t know. It’s not like I woke up one morning and everything was different. It just… happened. Little by little.”

I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the warm afternoon. “Do you still love me?”

“Of course I do.” The words come quickly, automatically, but they lack the conviction they once held. “I just don’t know if that’s enough anymore.”

Tears blur my vision, but I refuse to let them fall. Not yet. Not while I still have words that need saying. “I’ve been trying so hard, Jeremy. Making your lunches, keeping the house clean, trying to plan dates, trying to make you happy…”

“I never asked you to do any of that,” he cuts in, frustration edging his voice.

“No, you didn’t. But I did it because I love you. Because I’ve been fighting for us while you’ve been… what? Just going through the motions?”

He runs both hands through his hair, a gesture so familiar it makes my chest ache. “That’s not fair.”

“None of this is fair.” My voice cracks. “We promised each other forever, and now you’re standing there telling me you’re tired of us?”

The silence that follows is deafening. Outside, life goes on–cars pass, birds chirp, the neighbor’s dog continues to bark. But in our kitchen, time seems to stand still.

Finally, Jeremy speaks, his voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe we need some time apart.”

The words hit me like a physical blow. “Time apart,” I repeat, tasting the bitterness of the phrase. “You mean a separation?”

He nods slowly. “Just to figure things out. To see if…” He trails off, but I hear the unspoken words, anyway. To see if we still work. To see if we’re worth saving.

I look around our kitchen–at the broken mug on the floor, the half-empty coffeepot, the fruit bowl I’d been sketching. All these ordinary things that suddenly feel extraordinary in their finality. This could be the last time we stand here together as husband and wife.

“Okay,” I say, surprising us both. “If that’s what you want.”

He looks up sharply, perhaps expecting more of a fight. But I’m tired too. Tired of being the only one trying, tired of watching us drift further apart, tired of pretending everything’s fine when we’re clearly broken.

“I’ll stay at my brother’s,” he says after a moment. “I can pack some things tonight.”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. He moves past me toward our bedroom, and I hear him pulling out a duffel bag, opening drawers. Each sound is another crack in my heart.

Standing alone in the kitchen, I finally let the tears fall, mixing with the spilled coffee at my feet. One thought echoes in my mind, over and over: This is how a marriage ends–not with a bang, but with quiet words on a Tuesday afternoon, and coffee spreading across a kitchen floor.

Chapter Eleven

The house feelsdifferent at night now. Every creak, every shadow holds a memory of him. I lie awake in our bed—my bed now—staring at the ceiling fan as it spins lazy circles above me. The space beside me feels infinite.

It’s been three days since he left. Three days of existing in this strange limbo where everything looks the same but feels completely different. His toothbrush is still in the bathroom. His favorite coffee mug still sits in the cabinet. Little pieces of him scattered everywhere, like landmines waiting to explode my heart all over again.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand, making me jump. It’s Lilly.

Lilly

Just checking in. You okay?

I stare at the message, unsure how to respond. Am I okay? I don’t even know what okay means anymore.

Me

Can’t sleep.

Lilly

Want company? I can be there in 15.

It’s nearly midnight, and I know she has work tomorrow. But the thought of spending another night alone in this too-quiet house makes my chest tight.

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