“Welcome home, my love.”

Yoriichi greets you lovingly at the door, bowing politely as the corners of his lips curl upwards. It wasn’t obvious on his features, but he was more than excited that you’d finally return from your long day at work. This smile was reserved for you only. And the soft glow of the evening light filters through the entryway, casting a halo around him; an angel sent from heaven.

All the wives in the neighborhood envied you for having a husband such as Yoriichi. A man doing all the cooking and cleaning with no complaints while you sat back and relaxed? It was the dream.

Even on days when you insisted, he would gently push your hands away with a chuckle, his eyes telling you that your comfort was his utmost priority. He was perfect.

As you step inside, the familiar scent of your favorite dinner wafts through the air. He swiftly moves in and embraces you, his arms securing you against his muscular body; the touch of his lips against your cheek feather-light.

“Your dinner is ready. I made your favorite,” he murmurs. Yoriichi loved the look on your face as you enjoyed his cooking. He could never get enough of it.