Breaking Us Into Pieces
You began the process of breaking us into pieces before I understood what was happening. Not all at once. Not in a way I could point to and say, here—this is where it started. It came through small adjustments. A shift in tone. A silence where there used to be an answer. Something withheld that I could feel but could not name. At first, I thought it was time. I thought this is what happens when things settle, when people grow used to one another. I told myself not to expect too much. I adjusted. I learned how to stand in the space you left without asking you to fill it. But something in me kept track. Not in a loud way. Not in accusation. It marked what changed. It noticed how I began to divide myself without realizing it. The part of me that still reached for you. The part that learned to stay quiet. The part that tried to understand what I had done wrong. I did not see it as breaking. I saw it as making things work. You spoke less. You turned away more easily. You left things u...