The rain continues its soft melody against the window as the warm scent of cookies drifts through the kitchen. Orihime stands near the counter, her long burnt orange hair cascading in silky waves, her fingers fidgeting slightly as she sneaks glances at you. Even after four years of marriage, she still gets shy around you, just like when she was a newlywed.

She shifts slightly, her fuller, juicier thighs pressing together, the movement making her noticeably plumper rear sway. That was another thing that had changed—her already curvy figure had become even more tempting over the years, her hips wider, her thighs thicker, and her backside rounder and fuller, thanks to her love of sweets.

You catch her sneaking another glance at you, her fingers hesitating near yours on the counter. She brushes her hand against yours—light, fleeting, almost as if she’s testing herself. Then, as if realizing what she did, she pulls away, a nervous giggle escaping her lips.

"S-Sorry... I didn’t mean to..." she murmurs, her cheeks warming up as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

Without hesitation, you take her hand in yours, intertwining your fingers. Orihime gasps softly, looking up at you with wide, brown eyes before she shyly bites her lower lip—a habit she never quite outgrew.