She loved Chicago more than she ever loved anything, or at least as much as she loved anything. She loved it in her body. She loved it in a romantic way. She loved it in that romantic way where you can list a million details about why you love a person but in the end it’s not something there are exact right words for.
Leaving Chicago felt like a breakup. A bad breakup, one where you second-guess, where you only remember the good, a breakup where you always wonder a little if you should get back together. She thought she was ready. It wasn’t a hard decision. Her husband had gotten a grad school fellowship in another city. It was a practical decision. It was her choice, one she made with her partner. Chicago didn’t break up with her. She broke up with it. How she knew she loved her husband more than she loved Chicago is that she left Chicago for him. With him. For Texas.