Deborah Ann: I connected with him right away—I felt like I could be myself. On our next date we went to a basketball game. He couldn't navigate the crowd, so he asked if he could hold my hand. It was sweet. A few months later, his CHM started to sink in for me. We were at a bar, and he knocked a glass off a table. I remember thinking, Wow, he really can't see that. But I never wanted to step away. Then after about four months, I was upset and crying, and it was really the first time I got emotional in front of him. And suddenly he goes, "You know I love you!" I was like, "What?!" The moment I feared he was falling out of like with me was the moment he told me he loved me.

E.J.: I meant it. I was about to move to Chicago [to study at Second City improv school]. I didn't know—do I not move? Do we break up?

Deborah Ann: We decided to break up like rational adults; I drove him out there, and that was going to be it. But I saw him a few weeks later and said, "I can't do it! I want to be together!"

E.J.: I'd been diagnosed at age 27, after we learned my younger brother had CHM. But it was when I moved to Chicago that I gave up driving.

Deborah Ann: He was declared legally blind that year too, and started using a cane. That was a positive change, for me. I'd been so scared a taxi was going to dart in front of him and, because he didn't have any peripheral vision, he'd get hit. So I love the cane. For a while he wouldn't go out with it. I was like, "You have to promise me you're going to use it!"

E.J.: My maternal grandfather had CHM, but he never used a cane. He and my grandmother lied to their kids and didn't admit he was going blind for years. There are some crazy stories—he fell down a manhole once.

Deborah Ann: The year after E.J. moved to Chicago, we went to a CHM conference together. Women who'd been with their husbands for 20 years talked about the strategies they'd developed. One woman told her husband what food was on his plate according to the numbers on a clock face. And it hit me: One day E.J. won't even know what food is in front of him. Those little details are going to be my responsibility. I'm a pretty strong chica, and I can handle a lot, but it made me feel tired. I remember coming home and saying, "I never want to be resentful or angry about this. Let's be open about everything." I never want him to feel like my kid or anything other than an equal partner.

E.J.: I lived in Chicago for three years, and we never went more than a few weeks without seeing each other. When I moved back to L.A. in 2011, we moved in together.

Deborah Ann: We wanted to be near the grocery store, bank—

E.J.: And restaurants, so I could walk and wouldn't have to drive. I hired someone to help me run errands.

Deborah Ann: Decorating the house was hard. I always imagined my life with sunlight streaming through the windows, but we keep our windows shaded and the lights on dimmers because of his light sensitivity.

E.J.: Right now my vision is like looking through a paper-towel tube. If I look at Deborah's eyes, I can see her face. But if she puts her hands out, I can't see them.