[Scene: A cozy Italian restaurant. Candlelight flickers between them. The menu is thick with options, and the smell of garlic lingers in the air.]

WIFE (tilting the menu slightly toward him):

If you had to choose between the orecchiette with the sausage ragu or the spinach ravioli, which would

you—

HUSBAND (cutting her off, without looking up):

Babe, I really don’t care. You’re old enough to make your own decisions.

[A pause. The words hang for a second too long. She lowers her menu.]

WIFE (quietly):

Oh. Sorry. I didn’t mean to. . .

(she folds her hands in her lap, her voice smaller)

Never mind.

[He glances up briefly, but she’s already looking down. The waiter appears, pen poised, but the silence lingers just a moment longer.]