A home-cooked dinner on a weeknight means someone came home tired and still decided you’d eat well.

Inside that routine is a decision, made at the worst possible hour of the day. Somebody got home with nothing left, considered the easy option, and then stood at a stove for forty minutes so that you would eat something real. Because it happens weekly it stops looking like a choice, which is exactly how most of the effort in a household becomes invisible.

Do the dishes tonight without being asked, and then say the specific version. Not a general thanks, but that you know they were tired and did it anyway.