I cannot tell whether I miss my husband or only the life we had

Dear Delyara, My husband and I separated eight months ago. Nobody cheated. Nobody became cruel. We simply reached a point where every conversation felt rehearsed and every touch carried more obligation than desire. I was the one who asked him to leave. Now I miss him constantly. Not necessarily the marriage. I miss hearing him grind coffee before I wake. I miss the way he always bought the wrong yogurt. I miss having another adult who understood why one specific cupboard door never closes properly. When I imagine him coming back, relief arrives first, then the old tightness in my chest. Friends say this means I miss familiarity, not him. That sounds too neat. Familiarity was part of him. Twenty-three years of ordinary habits are not separate from love just because love became insufficient. Last night, he came by for mail. He stood in the hallway and asked if I was okay. I almost said, “Come home.” Instead, I said yes. After he left, I sat on the floor beside the shoes he forgot to take when he moved out. I cannot decide whether grief is asking me to restore something broken or simply admitting that ending the right relationship can still feel like losing the right person.