Love turned to litigation? Check your 6th house.

Some love doesn’t fade. It fragments. What started soft ends sharp. The same hands that held you now push papers. You once spoke dreams. Now you speak through silence. Love turned to tasks. Care turned to conflict.

There were routines once. Small things. Coffee, laundry, errands. You built a life on these. But something shifted. The warmth turned cold. The daily things became duties. The smiles turned to sighs. You kept trying. You gave more.

You told yourself it would pass. That love grows through hardship. That showing up would be enough. But it wasn’t. One person gave. The other expected. And the balance cracked. Quietly, steadily, deeply.

Arguments came later. Not loud, but heavy. About timing. About tone. About who forgot what. But the fight was never about those things. It was about what was missing. What never got said.

Love became effort. Not ease. You started to keep track. Who said sorry last. Who gave in more. You stopped laughing. You stopped resting. You were tired. They didn’t notice.

This kind of breakup doesn’t come with closure. It comes with lists. Bills. Emails. Logistics. You don’t cry at first. You organize. You explain. You pack. You disconnect. The goodbye isn’t romantic. It’s routine.

You miss them. But not really. You miss the version that tried. The version that cared. The version that held space. That version left long before you did.

Some people break your heart. Others wear it down. Slowly. Quietly. This was the slow kind. You didn’t shatter. You dimmed. You stopped speaking. You let go one piece at a time.

Later, you look back. Not in anger. In clarity. You see where you shrank. Where you overgave. Where you stayed too long. Where love became work.

Now, you move differently. You pause before overgiving. You wait to be met. You no longer confuse effort with affection. You want peace. Not passion that drains.

This is how love ends for some. Not with a bang. Not with betrayal. But with exhaustion. With unread messages. With quiet exits. You wanted forever. You got freedom.

And that, too, is love. The kind that teaches. The kind that redirects. The kind that shows you what you deserve by showing you what you’ll never accept again.