You still love them. You know you do, somewhere underneath all the routine and the exhaustion and the endless to-do lists. But something has shifted, and if you're being honest with yourself at midnight when everything is quiet, you can feel it. You eat dinner together but you're both somewhere else. You ask how their day was but you already know you're not really listening. You share a bed, a home, a life, and somehow it still feels like there is a wall you can't quite name running right down the middle of it all.

You know the fight. You've had it dozens of times, maybe more. It starts over something small — a tone of voice, the dishes, a comment about money, feeling like you come last on someone's list. And somehow, no matter how it begins, it always ends up in the exact same place. You're both hurt. You're both tired. And one of you is staring at the ceiling wondering why you can't just stop doing this.