Daniel glanced at the dashboard clock as he pulled into the driveway.
10:08 p.m.
His shoulders ached after another fourteen-hour shift repairing power lines following a severe thunderstorm. All day, he'd been imagining one thing: getting home, rubbing his wife's feet, and convincing her to stop doing more than the doctor recommended.
Emily was thirty-four weeks pregnant with their first child. Her obstetrician had warned her to avoid standing for long periods because of persistent swelling in her legs and elevated blood pressure.
As Daniel stepped onto the porch, he could hear laughter spilling through the open living-room window.
His parents were visiting.
So were his older brother, two cousins, and an aunt.
The smell of roasted chicken and fresh bread still lingered in the air.
"Sounds like everyone had a great evening," he thought with a smile.
That smile disappeared the moment he opened the front door.
The living room looked like the aftermath of a holiday celebration.
Half-empty dessert plates covered the coffee table.
Someone had left soda cans balanced on the armrests.
His father was asleep in the recliner.
His brother was watching a basketball game with the volume turned high enough to shake the windows.
No one noticed Daniel come in.
He looked around.
"Where's Emily?" he asked.
His mother barely glanced away from the television.
"Oh, she's finishing up in the kitchen."
Daniel frowned.
"Finishing what?"
"The dishes," she replied casually. "There were quite a few."
His stomach tightened.
He walked quickly toward the kitchen.
Emily stood alone at the sink.
Steam drifted from the hot water while stacks of greasy pans surrounded her.
One hand rested on her lower back every few seconds as she tried to ease the pressure.
Her ankles were visibly swollen beneath her slippers.
A basket overflowing with towels waited to be folded beside the washing machine.
She hadn't even changed out of the comfortable maternity dress she'd worn that morning.
When she heard his footsteps, she forced a smile.
"You're home."
Daniel crossed the room without saying a word.
He gently took the plate from her hands and placed it on the counter.
"What are you doing?"
"It's okay," Emily answered softly. "Everyone cooked, so I figured I'd clean."
He looked around the kitchen.
Nothing about this looked shared.
It looked like one exhausted woman had been left with the work of an entire house full of adults.
"You've been standing this whole time?"
She hesitated before nodding.
"I wanted everyone to enjoy their evening."
Daniel noticed how pale she looked.
Then he reached for the bottle of medication her doctor had prescribed to help manage her blood pressure.
It wasn't on the counter where Emily always kept it.
He opened the nearby cabinet.
Nothing.
He checked the kitchen table.
Nothing.
Finally, he asked, "Where's your medicine?"
Emily's expression changed.
She looked down at the floor.
"I... I don't know."
Just then, Daniel heard his aunt call from the living room.
"Oh, if you're looking for those pills, your mother threw them away this afternoon."
The room fell silent.
Daniel slowly turned toward the doorway.
"What did you just say?"
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