Your love has logistics. The fridge is full for the friend who might stay late, the spare charger exists, the plan has a plan under it. You build environments where people function — warmth made practical, running quietly like good plumbing.
The cost is that infrastructure is only noticed when it fails. The room runs on your tending and calls itself self-sufficient, and your own tank gets refilled last, if the schedule allows, which it rarely does. Care that flows one direction eventually runs dry.
The Queen of Pentacles sits in the garden she grew — sits in it, the card insists, not just tends it. Put yourself on the list of things maintained. The household stands. You are allowed to enjoy the thing you built.