Perhaps it was his constant absence, or his inability to divulge the inner turmoil that gnaws at him.

The demise of your marriage is nearly a forgone conclusion; the arguments, the tension, the brick wall of reserve. Your future together seems like a faraway prospect.

Yet when you plead for honesty, he spurns you once again.

“Not now,” he huffs, the same excuse he’d used for weeks now. “I don’t have time for this.”

Escape is easier than accepting the sad reality of his world falling apart.