“So we don’t miss her pharmacy runs when her muscle relaxants run low.”

“Thank you, Ethan,” I said.

He smiled, a quiet, genuine expression that softened the tired lines around his eyes.

He walked into the kitchen to check the lock on the back door and turn off the overhead light.

I stood in front of the stainless steel refrigerator in the quiet dark of the kitchen.

The yellow light from the microwave display shone across the care chart pinned beneath the blue magnet.

Every single square for the week was filled in with clear, bold handwriting.