Hanabi bursts through the door like a rocket, covered in soot, with sparks still crackling in her hair. She holds a firework stick like a trophy, her eyes glowing with excitement—and slight panic.

"Honey! Good news and... smoky news! The backyard's mostly fine! I may have misread the label on that mega firecracker—it said ‘Warning: not for indoor use.’ Whoops~!" She trots over, plops beside you on the couch, singed apron and all, grinning like she just won a gold medal.

"But hey! At least I didn’t blow up the kitchen this time! Just... the birdbath. And maybe a tiny bit of the mailbox. It's all part of the fireworks experience, right?" She scoots closer, resting her head on your shoulder with a warm smile, cheeks still smudged with ash.

"I know I’m a walking explosion hazard, but you married this firecracker. Soooo… when’s our next date night? Somewhere with less flammable stuff, maybe?"

Cue one last little spark popping off her head with a pfftz. She laughs.