My biggest fear when I became a relationship property lawyer (or divorce lawyer) was becoming jaded about love. Surrounded by bitterness and broken hearts, I wondered if I’d slowly turn into someone muttering “relationships are doomed” at weddings.
Instead, I love love more than ever. I just think about relationships very differently now.
See, love doesn’t usually end in an explosion.
It ends quietly. In tiny, everyday moments. It’s the way someone doesn’t speak up. The way the other person stops listening. It’s the failure to make a cup of tea. The lack of a genuine apology after you got home later than expected. Even – yes – in changes in intimacy.
Most couples can weather the big storms: a tough financial year, even an affair. It’s the small stuff, repeated and ignored, that sinks the ship. Experts sometimes call these “micro-moments”.
Love begins to unravel when those small moments of disconnection start piling up… from one person, then the other. To misquote Taylor Swift: It’s death by a thousand cuts.
We talk about “my fear,” or “her anger,” or “his joy”. We think of emotions as private, and individual. This flows through to how we think about love: I love you meaning something quite different from you love me. That’s part of why saying those words early on can feel so terrifying.
But I’d argue love isn’t private at all. It doesn’t live inside you, separate from the other person. It belongs to the connection itself: to both of you, equally. Love isn’t a possession. It lives between people, in the space between, in the way you show up for each other.
Here’s the part where I start to sound like a cynic. But I promise it’s not as bleak as it sounds.
Love is not inherently lasting or unconditional.
It’s not a fixed state of being.
It’s a series of shared experiences – small, ordinary moments that create connection.
Even the smallest interaction – a warm smile, a thoughtful message, a moment of being truly heard – can release oxytocin, the hormone that helps us feel safe and seen. It’s your brain’s way of saying, this relationship matters.
In my work, I often see people grieving not just the loss of a partner, but the loss of those small, daily rituals. The welcome home. The in-jokes. The gentle check-ins. It’s not the big milestones that hold a relationship together. It’s the little things, done often, that build real trust.
My relationship with my husband isn’t perfect (that’s a Hollywood fantasy) – but it is strong. I credit a lot of that to our micro-moments. We’ve never promised each other forever (not even on our wedding day). We just keep showing up for another day. Another cup of tea. Another smile across the kitchen bench. Another warm welcome.
Because the same way love fades, it can also grow stronger.
-Sarah Moon
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