“I guess that means I’d better start looking for an apartment,” he said sadly at the other end of the phone. “I’ll check some out this weekend,” he promised, and it felt like a knife in her heart. Although they’d been talking about his moving out for months, and he was never there on the weekends now, it suddenly felt all too real. It was over.

“There’s no rush,” she said softly. They had loved each other and thought they would be together forever, and they were both sad that it hadn’t worked out. It was easier concentrating on the business details about the gallery and the house than talking about the loss to both of them. It was the death of a dream. They had both survived other failed relationships before, but neither of them had ever lived with anyone else. Suddenly, it really did feel like a divorce. She wondered what they would do about all the things they had bought together-the couch, the lamps, the dishes, the living room rug they both liked. It was painful to think about that now. But sooner or later they would have to face pulling their common life apart. She hated the thought. And he wasn’t happy about it either.

“I’ll let you know what I find,” he said, and had to hurry into a meeting, which was a mercy for them both. She wondered when he would start dating, and how soon he would meet someone else, or if he already had. She didn’t ask him what he did on weekends, but she didn’t think he was seeing anyone. They hardly saw each other at the house now. He came in late at night, and he was sleeping in a guest room on another floor.

Talking to him reminded her that she had to start looking for roommates, since she was going to be able to keep the house.