The rain started in the late afternoon and didn’t stop.

By the time Daniel came home, the sky outside the kitchen window had turned a deep, heavy gray. I was sitting at the island with a half-finished cup of tea when I heard the garage door open. A few minutes later he walked in, shaking water from his hair, the shoulders of his jacket dark with rain.

“It’s coming down hard,” he said.

“I noticed.”

He set his keys on the counter and looked at me for a moment longer than usual. There was a quiet tiredness in his face, the kind that settled in after a long day of...