Dear Annie: My husband and I have been married for 22 years, and lately I feel more like his roommate than his wife. We are kind to each other, we pay the bills, we talk about groceries, the kids, aging parents and the dog, but the warmth has slowly disappeared.

There was no big betrayal, no dramatic fight and no one slammed a door. That is almost what makes it harder. We just drifted apart, one ordinary day at a time. He watches TV in one room, I scroll on my phone in another, and some nights we barely say more than goodnight.

Last weekend, we went out to dinner for the first time in months. I had hoped it would feel like a date, but we spent most of the meal talking about the roof repair and our son's car insurance. When there was a quiet moment, we both reached for our phones. I looked across the table and thought, "How did we become two polite strangers sharing an appetizer?"

I miss laughing with him. I miss being touched without it feeling scheduled. I miss feeling chosen, not just included in the family calendar. I do not want to blow up my family or hurt anyone, but I also do not want to spend the rest of my life politely lonely next to the person I married.

How do you know whether a marriage is going through a season or quietly becoming a life sentence? — Lonely in the Same House

Dear Lonely: A marriage does not usually become distant overnight, and it does not have to be repaired overnight either. Start with one honest, gentle conversation, not an accusation, and tell him you miss him, not just the romance but the friendship. Then ask for small changes: a walk after dinner, a phone-free meal, counseling or one evening a week that belongs only to the two of you. Pay attention to whether he is willing to try, because effort matters more than perfect words. Loneliness in marriage is painful, but silence is what turns a season into a life sentence.

Dear Annie: I have a friend who only seems to call when she needs something. If she is upset, I listen for an hour. If she needs advice, I help her think it through. If she is in a crisis, I show up with soup, tissues and a sympathetic ear.

But when I need support, she is suddenly busy, distracted or turns the conversation back to herself. Recently, I was going through a hard time with my family and finally told her I was struggling. She said, "That's awful," paused for about five seconds, and then launched into a story about a problem at work.

This has become our pattern. I know every detail of her marriage, her job stress, her children's schedules and even her neighbor drama. But when I try to share something from my own life, she checks her phone, cuts me off or says she has to run.

I do not want to be petty or keep score, but I am tired of feeling like the unpaid therapist in a friendship that does not feel equal. How do I pull back without being cruel? — Always on Call

Dear Always on Call: A friendship should be a two-way street, not a toll road where only one person keeps paying. Start giving her less time, less instant access and fewer rescues. If she disappears when you stop being her emotional emergency room, you will have your answer.

"Out of Bounds: Estrangement, Boundaries and the Search for Forgiveness" is out now! Annie Lane's third anthology is for anyone who has lived with anger, estrangement or the deep ache of being wronged — because forgiveness isn't for them. It's for you. Visit http://www.creatorspublishing.com for more information. Follow Annie Lane on Instagram at @dearannieofficial. Send your questions for Annie Lane to dearannie@creators.com.

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