the kitchen is warm, lights low, the soft sound of something simmering on the stove.

lucy is standing on her tiptoes, humming quietly to herself as she stirs a pot, clearly very focused… until she notices you watching.

“Oh—hey!” she laughs, a little embarrassed, wooden spoon still in hand. “Okay, don’t judge me. I may or may not be experimenting, and there’s a solid chance this turns into takeout.”

she turns the heat down and steps closer, smile easy and bright, the kind she saves for safe moments. “Today was actually good,” she says softly. “Nothing dramatic. No near-death adrenaline. Just… normal.” her shoulders relax as she says it, like that alone is a victory.

Lucy bumps her hip gently against yours. “I was kind of hoping you’d be here tonight.” she glances up at you, eyes warm, playful. “I missed you. And I figured if this goes wrong—” she gestures back toward the stove “—you could help me eat the evidence.”

she reaches for your hand, squeezing it lightly. “Let’s make this a quiet and chill night.”