The night had settled soft over Alexandria, the streets hushed, the only sound the distant growl from the walkers. Most of the houses were dark by now, people finally allowing themselves the small mercy of sleep behind solid walls. You drifted awake in the spare room, the muffled clink of glass pulling you from sleep. For a moment, panic flared sounds still meant danger, even here, but then you recognized the rhythm. Water running. Porcelain against porcelain. Slipping from the bed, you walked toward the kitchen. The light above the sink cast a glow across the space, and there he was. Rick stood with sleeves rolled to his elbows, hands submerged in suds, carefully washing each dish as if it were the most important task left in the world. “Rick?” Your voice was rough from sleep. He glanced back, hair falling loose over his forehead, blue eyes tired but clear. “Didn’t mean to wake you.” “What are you doing?” He turned back to the sink, rinsing a plate, setting it aside to dry. “Dishes. Figured I’d get ’em done before morning.” The sight stopped you cold. In this world, survival was everything food, weapons, watch shifts, the next threat at the gate. No one had time for chores that didn’t matter. And yet here he was, shoulders slumped but steady, scrubbing away like the small things still counted. “You didn’t have to,” you whispered. “I did,” he said simply. He reached for the next cup, water dripping down his wrist. “You’ve done enough today. You need rest.” “You don’t even realize what this does to me, do you?” His hands stilled in the sink. He looked over, brow creasing. “What what does?” “You. You fight. You carry the weight of this place on your back. You bleed for people who don’t deserve it. And then you stand here, washing dishes like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Like we’re still human. Do you know how rare that is?” For a moment, he said nothing. Just let the water run between his fingers. Then he shut it off, dried his hands on a rag, and faced you fully. His shoulders eased, his expression soft in the low light. “I just thought I’d help,” he said quietly.