“I’m just tired,” I admitted, my shoulders slumping. “I love David more than anyone, more than I could ever love anyone. But you need to understand”—I looked at Everly—“at the most, my capacity for love is a fraction of David’s. But he expects me to match him all the time. And when I can’t, he takes it personally, as if I’m intentionally choosing not to love him the same way he loves me.” I shook my head. “So, I find myself pretending to have feelings I don’t have, but actually do have, just not at the level he wants.” I sighed. “It’s maddening.”
