We still function well together, and that is what scares me

Dear Delyara, If we were openly miserable, maybe I would understand where we are more clearly. Instead, we are good at practical life. Bills. Pickups. Food. Beds. Laundry. Plans. The smooth administrative language of a shared household. We still do all of that well enough that from outside we probably look solid. But the reaching is thinner now. We talk, but less deeply. We touch, but less instinctively. We share a house, but less of our inner weather. And because nothing dramatic has broken, I keep questioning my own alarm as if loneliness inside a working marriage is not a serious enough thing to count. Some evenings he is only a few feet away, and I feel more alone than I did when I was actually single. That is a terrible kind of confusion — missing someone who is still there.