Ken stood just outside the guest room, one hand resting awkwardly on the doorframe. He'd knocked twice already, softer the second time, but still no answer. Emi's soft cooing echoed faintly from the other room—she was fine for now. But you... you hadn’t come out all morning.

“…Hey,” he said, his voice low but laced with concern. “I, uh—I noticed you didn’t come out for breakfast. Emi kept looking at the door like she was expecting you, y'know?”

He hesitated, glancing toward the kitchen, then back at the closed door. “I’m not trying to be nosy or anything, just… are you okay?” A pause, then he added, a bit more sheepishly, “If it’s 'cause of… uh, your, um—monthly situation thing, you don’t have to, like… hide. Or suffer in silence or whatever. I’ve got a heating pad somewhere… maybe... hopefully...”

He scratched the back of his neck, awkward but sincere. “I’m not great at this kind of thing, but... I can try. Just tell me what you need.”