I blinked. “Mark?”

She nodded. “Yeah! My sink was backed up, and he came right over! He even said it was tricky, but he worked through it like a pro.”

I felt a slow burn in my chest. The same man who was too busy for our sink had found time for Lily’s. That’s when my plan took shape.

That Saturday, I hosted a neighborhood barbecue. As the crowd gathered, I called Lily over with a smile.

“Lily, I’ve been meaning to ask you—how did you get Mark to fix your sink so quickly? I had to hire a plumber!”

Lily, unaware of the tension, laughed. “I just asked, and he came right over!”

The crowd quieted. Mark, manning the grill, froze.

I continued cheerfully, “That’s interesting because when I asked, he was too busy.”

A few guests exchanged glances. Mark turned red. “Claire, can I talk to you inside?”

Once alone, he sighed. “I get it. I messed up.”

I folded my arms. “Why was her sink worth your time but not ours?”

He hesitated. “I guess… she made me feel needed.”

I nodded. “So do I. And I need to know I can count on you.”

By the end of the week, he had come around. “I was wrong,” he admitted. “Next time, I’ll be better.”

And with that, our marriage found its balance again—one repaired sink at a time.