“I raised three kids.”
“Then.”
“I took care of the house.”
“And?”
Her irritation sharpened.
“Marco!”
He grinned.
“Good. Anger sounds more confident. Again.”
Diane glared at him.
Then something changed.
“I handled the household budget,” she said.
Marco started typing.
“I managed school schedules.”
More typing.
“My mother had dementia for six years.”
His hands stopped.
Diane looked down.
“I coordinated her appointments. Medication. Home care. Insurance. Everything.”
Marco resumed typing.
“Keep going.”
She did.
Contractors.
School events.
Fundraisers.
Medical forms.
Bills.
One crisis after another.
Ten minutes later, Marco turned his laptop toward her.
Diane stared at the screen.
“That’s… me?”
Marco leaned back.
“It always was.”
I looked over her shoulder.
***Budget management.***
***Scheduling.***
***Vendor coordination.***
***Event planning.***
***Care logistics.***
Everything Diane had dismissed as “nothing” suddenly had professional names.
