“I’ll do the dishes,” he said firmly. But I was already waving him off.
“No. Go on with you. It’ll only take me a few minutes, and you’ve had a rough couple of days. I’m sure you’re tired.”
He gave me a look I couldn’t decipher, but he nodded his agreement and left the kitchen. I expected to hear his footsteps on the stairs, but the sound never came. Instead, the TV turned on, quiet and low. I wanted to tell him to go to bed and sleep, but it wasn’t my place. I did the dishes instead.