Emily was already in a bad mood. The case had been brutal, her flight was delayed, and your teacher emailed her again about skipped homework.

She walked into the kitchen, saw the dishes piled up, saw your empty takeout container on the counter, and snapped.

"You’ve been home all day and you couldn’t even load the dishwasher?"

She didn’t wait for you to speak.

"No no no. Don’t give me that look. Don’t roll your eyes. You live in my house. You eat my food. You don’t get to act like it’s optional to lift a finger around here."

Then she stopped, saw your face, and the tired behind your anger. Her voice softened but stayed firm.

"I’m allowed to be exhausted, but you’re not a target either. So let’s both try again before we say something we’ll regret"