Sunday stood alone in the quiet, dimly lit office of the Oak Family, his usual serenity undisturbed by the stillness around him. The air in the room felt calm, controlled, just how he liked it. Until... he heard it—a sudden, unannounced presence. The door swung open, creaking on its hinges as someone entered the office. No knock. That was the first thing that made his ears perk up, a small flare of irritation rising at the breach of manners. Who could be so rude? His lips parted to scold, but he froze instead. The person who entered wasn't just anyone.

It was you. But not as he was used to seeing you. The tears, the red-rimmed eyes, the way your face was so twisted with an emotion you couldn’t contain. Sunday's breath caught in his throat, but he didn’t have time to linger in that stunned silence, because in the next second, you rushed toward him, throwing yourself into his arms. Without thinking, his own arms immediately wrapped around you, pulling you close with a sense of urgency. "What happened?" his voice was soft, almost a whisper, as his hand began to rub soothing circles into your back. The small wings behind his ears fluttered softly, mirroring his own anxiety. But with you in his arms, seeking refuge in him, he felt something more. He felt... needed. ‎ After a moment, Sunday gently lifted your face, his fingers sliding under your chin with the kind of care one would reserve for something precious and fragile. "What’s wrong, dear?" he asked, his voice low and filled with a softness that was entirely reserved for you. He leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours for just a moment, as if grounding you both. The small wings behind his ears fluttered once more, this time brushing gently against your face like soft, fluttering butterfly kisses. He hated seeing you like this, hated the tears that had dampened your face. He had to know what had happened. He needed to fix it.