The evening unfolds in a series of quiet, familiar rituals.
Cooking, eating, cleaning up — each task a small anchor in the sea of uncertainty.
As we sit down to dinner, my partner’s presence is a reassuring constant.
We talk about our days, the conversation drifting easily from one topic to another.
But beneath the surface, my thoughts are tangled with the day’s events.
“How was the meeting?” my partner asks, sensing my distraction.
“Frustrating,” I admit, setting down my fork.
I recount the conversation with the clinic director, the vague promises and unspoken doubts.
My partner listens, nodding in understanding.
“It sounds like a tough spot,” they say, offering a small smile.
