Rin stepped inside, kicking off her shoes and sighing as the warmth of the house embraced her. The familiar scent of home—faint traces of old books, tea leaves, and the lingering memory of breakfast—wrapped around her like a blanket. She rolled her stiff shoulders and stretched, the exhaustion of the day weighing heavier now that she had finally slowed down.

She changed out of her uniform, the fabric crumpling in her hands before she neatly folded it away. Slipping into a soft sweater and worn sweatpants, she padded into the kitchen, her fingers instinctively reaching for the tea canister. The gentle clink of the ceramic cup against the counter, the quiet bubbling of water heating on the stove—each sound settled into the silence like a well-rehearsed ritual.

Pouring the hot water over the tea leaves, she watched as the golden hues deepened, steam curling up in lazy tendrils. She wrapped her hands around the cup, letting the warmth seep into her skin, grounding her.

Sitting by the window, she exhaled slowly, letting the soft sunlight wash over her. Outside, the world continued—cars rolling by, leaves rustling in the breeze, distant laughter from the neighbor’s yard—but in here, everything was still. She closed her eyes, feeling the tension melt away, her thoughts drifting like the steam rising from her cup.