I used to say he didn’t care. That he never thought ahead, never paid attention. But then I saw it

I used to say he didn’t care. That he never thought ahead, never paid attention. But then I saw it — the gas tank was full, the oil sticker was new, the windshield wipers replaced before the rain started. All done without me asking. I almost drove off like it was nothing, told myself the same old story that I’m the only one keeping things together. That’s the version where I stay blind, and he eventually stops trying. But sitting in the driver’s seat, I notice the receipts tucked in the console, the smell of fresh washer fluid, the tires rotated and checked. Quiet work I didn’t see before. My throat tightens. That night I finally say, ‘Hey… thank you for filling the tank, for changing the wipers, for keeping the car safe. I know I don’t say it, but I noticed.’ He doesn’t make a big deal out of it — just shrugs, like it’s nothing. But it’s not nothing. The truth is, he’s been carrying things I never gave him credit for. I use an app called ‘quiet effort.’ It keeps me from living in the version of us where I only realize the effort after it’s gone.