"I want you to move out."

I knew our marriage had had problems for years, but I never thought I would hear those words.

I had just returned from a long trip and was beginning to unpack. She looked at me with angry eyes.

"You look happy."she said.

"You know, I really am."

I had just spent a week seeing my parents and reconnecting with friends after finishing my first year of law school. The year had been filled with stress and getting away from it made me feel like a new man. For the first time in a very long time I felt at peace with myself.

I was an older student (late twenties) and I hadn't really found a place for myself at the school. It's hard to  make friends when you're trying to save your marriage. I was doing ok academically, but was falling short of the expectations I had set for myself. I felt like I was failing my wife, Amy.

I began law school to provide for our family. To finally be able to provide the lifestyle that Amy was used to.  I really would have done anything that had the potential to pay well. But after the first year, finishing with so-so grades, I was no longer sure that the sacrifices we had made were worth the diminishing potential for something better.

The fights and nonfights I had with Amy throughout the year were not helpful. The ongoing emotional affair she developed with a classmate was devastating. Each day, I could do little more than study, hope, and pray that somehow everything would turn out right.  

"What if I said I wanted you to move out by the end of the week?"she asked.

I paused. There was a lingering moment of silence. It felt like the air had been sucked out the room.

"Do you want me to move out by the end of the week?"

"Yes." she replied.

I never used to think about divorce. Thankfully, I come from a solid supportive family. My parents were high school sweethearts that met on a blind date. My entire conception of what a marriage should be came from them.

But there I was. Standing. Looking at her. Seeing her pain. Wondering how we had gotten to this point. Asking God to stop it.

In movies, marriages end when a spouse cheats or when there's physical violence or when one of the spouses is such a complete asshole that the audience ends up rooting for the adulterer. It feels so unnatural to be in a marriage that's ending when you have two good, faithful, caring people that just can't seem to make it work.

So, now I'm looking for apartments. I feel like I'm shopping for my own coffin. I don't really care if the apartment has a fireplace if I can't share it with Amy.

So, now we're getting separated. What does that mean? I really don't know. I've never heard of a couple that gets separated and then reconciles. I pray it happens. I pray we're the exception. I pray I get through this.