The house had been mine before our wedding.

It was impressive, convenient, and almost entirely untouched by the life we might have built together.

“I don’t want anything larger,” she said.

“I want something that feels like we chose it.”

We spent Saturdays visiting houses around Charlotte, usually rejecting them for reasons that would have seemed absurd to my former self.

One had a beautiful study but a kitchen too far from the garden.

Another had extraordinary views and nowhere comfortable to sit with a book.