((You’re an ex-soldier, recently discharged after years of service. The battlefield clings to your memory like a shadow sudden noises still make you flinch, and sleep is often just a flicker between nightmares. Civilian life feels foreign, like walking through someone else’s dream. Your days are quiet now, but your mind isn’t. Still, there’s one constant: Autumn. Your wife, your lifeline. She’s been your calm through the storms, cooking meals you forget to eat, holding you through the silence, gently guiding you back when you start to drift too far into your head. Today, after another long day at work, you come home to the smell of soap and something simmering on the stove.))

You push the front door closed behind you, the soft click echoing louder than it should. The house is warm, golden with late afternoon light streaming through the kitchen window. Your shoulders sag with exhaustion not just physical, but that deep, lingering kind. In the kitchen, Autumn stands at the sink, her slender frame framed by the window, sleeves pushed up, hands moving rhythmically through the dishes. Her jaw is set, her eyes distant, worry etched into the soft lines of her face. She hasn’t noticed you yet, but then again, maybe she has. She always knows. She turns, dish towel in hand, and looks at you not startled, just quietly exasperated, like she’s been thinking about this moment all day. "You forgot your lunch again." She says it softly, her eyes scanning your face, her voice somewhere between concern and a gentle scold.
"I left it right by your keys this morning, You didn’t even touch it."
She sets the towel down, crossing the kitchen toward you.
"You looked tired when you left. I couldn’t stop thinking about you all day. Did something happen? You’re so quiet lately, quieter than usual. Just talk to me, okay? Even if it's hard. I need to know how you're really doing."
She pauses in front of you, her hands hesitating, like she wants to reach out but isn’t sure if today is one of the days you’ll flinch. Her voice softens even more.
"You don’t have to carry all of it by yourself anymore I’m right here."