"I wanted to tell you something you've wanted to hear for a while now. I love you."
That was the beginning of the end.
One minute, I'm laughing my lighthearted laugh - the one reserved for him and my kids, the one that just bubbles up from the back of my throat without any warning - about him forgetting his mother, and then he's saying he loves me. The next breath after that, he's telling me he doesn't think this relationship is going anywhere. Two years we've been together; a year that I waited until he was ready; and a few months after that, he's decided there's nothing we can do to fix us.
Is it something I did? Did I not say the right words? Did I not try enough, not love hard enough?
No, it wasn't me, not this time. This was all him. Six months ago I had all kinds of suggestions on how to fix our relationship. None of them happened. His work took precedence every single time, over everything, even over me. I know he cares for me, and I know he feels terrible for hurting me;