I stand there for a moment. It’s not a big thing. It’s a small thing. But I feel it. hat tiny shift.
That almost-familiar sensation of being the one who will do it anyway.
The machine beeps a third time fifteen minutes later.
He sighs loudly.
“I’ve got a deadline, Em. Can you just do it? I’ll sort it later.”
There it is. Not cruel. Not malicious. Just… default.
I don’t snap.
I don’t roll my eyes.
I don’t make a passive-aggressive comment.
I just walk past him and move the washing into the dryer.
My chest feels tight.
It’s fine. It’s one moment. Change isn’t instant. And I guess I can’t expect him to realise that I have a deadline too since I haven’t told him.
But as I’m loading the dryer, I glance over at him.
He’s leaning forward, jaw tense, completely absorbed.
And I realise something uncomfortable.
The spark is back.
The desire is back.
The laughter is back.
But the habits?
They’re still there too.
And this, this is the real work.
Not the sex.
Not the flirting.
The choosing, again and again, even when it’s inconvenient.
I close the dryer door a little harder than necessary.
The sound echoes.
Dan looks up briefly.
“You alright?”
I hold his gaze for a second longer than usual.
“Yeah,” I say lightly.
