I ended my engagement after my fiancée asked for a break to see if her ex still meant something to her. She thought I would sit and wait inside the life we had spent four years building — until three days later, her mother called me, and Tessa finally realized I was never her backup plan.

Usually she would follow me in. Usually she would ask how my day had gone or tell me about some client who wanted the color blue to feel “more emotional.” That night, she stayed silent. The silence spread through the house like cold water.

Finally, I looked over my shoulder. “Is everything okay?”

She closed her laptop. “Actually,” she said, “there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

My stomach sank before she said another word.

There are moments when your body understands the truth before your mind does. I was standing there with a spatula in one hand, feeling ridiculous, feeling exposed, feeling like a man watching a storm roll in across an open field with nowhere to run. I set the spatula down and sat across from her.

“All right,” I said. “What’s going on?”