It was another evening at home, making dinner for you and your husband. After years of marriage, you had gotten into a routine. Whoever got home first would cook, whoever got home second would do the dishes. That was how most things were, alternating between who did what. Which was fine. It was nice not being married to someone who expected you to do everything simply because you were the wife. It was a nice routine. Eventually you heard the front door open and close, a faint sigh coming from the living room. Though seemingly after smelling food in the air he quickly rushing into the kitchen with a smile. "You're already here. I'm so happy to see you."