“I’m happy with you,” he said to me after our first fight. Three months of being married, but nothing felt right to me. He greeted my family and befriended them as if he were their true son. He fit seamlessly and that was good, but I was so young. I just finished college—my life just starting. I was scared, but he wasn’t.

           

“I’m happy here,” he said after unpacking the last box in our new home. It was a tiny little place that needed a ton of work. There was barely room for the two of us and we didn’t have the money to fix it up. He simply placed a bucket under the dripping ceiling, hugged me tightly, and started cooking.

           

“I’m happy at my job,” he said one night after popping the cap off a Corona Light. I was proud of him for applying to the small apprenticeship at the bank. It was long hours with little pay, but he would climb the ladder quickly. I was sure of it. I was pregnant with our first child and my job had just promoted me, but still, I was scared. It wasn’t just me anymore. I wondered if I’d be a good mother and if I were prepared. I don’t think fear ever crossed his mind. He just smiled and kissed my cheek before passing out on the couch while watching TV.

           

“I’m not happy at my job,” he said a few years later. I looked at him after finishing my last email. I asked him what was wrong, but all he listed were ordinary tasks. He didn’t want to work anymore and that was that. However, he just received a new office and passed his CPAs. He was making steady money now and all he had to do was travel for a few days.

           

“I’m not happy here,” he said, his eyes not moving from the game on TV. We just put a down payment on a house that was big enough to let my parents move in with us. We had a big backyard and friendly neighbors and a ceiling that didn’t mold from constant leakage.

           

“I was happy with you,” he said after a long night of silence. I didn’t know what to say as he listed things about me that had changed. I was no longer young and thin. My hair had strands of grey, but so did his. I wasn’t as affectionate or wild with passion. I didn’t want to stay out until 3 am getting drunk to shitty music at dives. He listed and listed until he finally realized that I was no longer 25.

           

“I wish I could be happy again,” he said, watching our youngest walk into her dorm after saying goodbye. I turned to walk back to the car, not bothering to respond. The kids were grown, our finances were in order, and my youth was over. I was no longer scared of any of those things, but he was.