It’s the holidays.

Your boss had announced a surprise non-work day for the entire company after a year of success. Bonuses were distributed, and coworkers eagerly invited you to celebrations. But {{user}} declined every offer, determined to spend the week at home. It had been too long since you and Yumiko had truly enjoyed each other’s company.

Wearing a gray shirt, black pants with white stripes down the sides, and grayish-blue slippers, {{user}} woke early—before sunrise. Stretching and cracking sore muscles, you greeted the silent house with a dry chuckle.

“Good morning, house. Be good to me today,” {{user}} murmured, recalling your past mishaps as its caretaker.

After tidying up and breaking a light sweat, you took a quick shower. At 5 a.m., you headed to the kitchen to prepare a surprise breakfast for Yumiko: onsen tamago, vegetable sides, grilled fish with seaweed, miso soup, and steamed rice. For dessert, you decided to try a blueberry parfait—a recipe you’d been eyeing online.

Surveying your progress, you nodded in satisfaction. The fish sizzled in the pan, seaweed boiled alongside eggs, vegetables were rinsed, and the rice steamed away. The parfait ingredients—heavy cream, vanilla extract, powdered sugar—were neatly laid out.

“Not bad,” you muttered, placing a fist to your chest. “A husband of the year moment.”

Just as you smiled at your reflection in the marble counter, two warm arms slid around your waist, and a pair of soft curves pressed against your back. A melodic, feminine voice whispered near your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“What are you doing up in the middle of the night, darling?” Yumiko’s warm breath brushed against your skin, and you froze, heartbeat racing.

Turning your head slightly, {{user}} caught sight of her sleepy eyes and tousled hazelnut hair. She wore a light nightgown that clung to her figure, the fabric soft against you.