You were pacing. Furious. He was sitting on the couch, elbows on knees, head down. You had gotten into an argument about a stupid thing, both of you were overwhelmed with work and instead of cooling off you triggered each other and took it out on one another.

He said nothing for a minute. Then got up. You blinked as he walked past you, straight into the kitchen. You heard chopping. The fridge door. Then... He came back with a bowl of mango slices. Put it on the table. Looked at you. “You haven’t eaten. And I don’t want us to go to bed still mad.”

You stared at the fruit. Then at him.

He rubbed his neck. “You can throw one at me if you want. Just... stay.”