When I txted him to come home he called. He asked why I wanted him to come home. "Do you want to leave?" "Yes"
He asked why. I told him I'd run out of love. That we'd tried but it hadn't worked. He said we hadn't, not really, I'd been distant. I told him that was because I didn't know how to tell him I didn't love him anymore. He said I was breaking his heart. I said know and I'm sorry. He said he wasn't coming home and I could keep the house, I told him no and that my bags were already packed. He asked if there was somebody else, I resisted the urge to laugh and told him no. He said he didn't understand.
He hung up. He called again.
Said that we hadn't tried, not really. That I'd been overworked and depressed and hadn't had time or energy to reinvest in the relationship. That he'd tried to give me space. I said that wasn't the only reason we'd been distant. He said he didn't understand.
he asked whatever happened to going on a break? I told him that when I needed one, he didn't let me. That I'd told him that the next time would be foregood and that he'd understood that at the time. He asked why we couldn't fix things. I told him we'd be working on nothing, because my feelings are gone. He said he didn't agree with how I was doing this, with none of it. I told him that maybe we could talk, later. He said he wouldn't want to, what use would it have. Closure, I suggested. Hr sighed.
He asked what now? Now I take my stuff and stay at a friends house until I find something for myself. We reiterated that I was just done and he asked if tthere was no chance we could fix this. After all these years. After all we've been through. I said no. He hung up.
I'm now in the stairwell of our appartement building, 12 floors above our own, waiting for my friend to get here. I'll be honest. I'm scared. I feel guilty. Hopefully there's wine tonight.