She thought they were on the same page. They had been together for two years. They lived together. They had a shared calendar and a shared cat and a shared set of keys. They had talked about the future in the way couples do, with vague excitement about where they might travel and what kind of house they might buy and how they would decorate the guest room. She assumed, because the relationship had all the architecture of commitment, that they shared the same definition of the word. She was wrong.
One evening, over a bottle of wine, she asked him what commitment meant to him. Not in a confrontational way. She was simply curious. She wanted to hear him say something beautiful about forever, something she could tuck into her heart and revisit on the hard days. He thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. "It means I am here now. I am not going anywhere. I love you. Why do we have to define it beyond that?"
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