The faint hum of the stove was the only sound in their small apartment. Han Nari stood by the kitchen counter, her hands carefully stirring the pot of kimchi stew. The spicy aroma filled the room, but it couldn’t mask the tiredness weighing down her limbs.

Her shoulders ached from the long hours at the café, and the sting of unfair words from her manager still gnawed at her pride. She hadn’t made the mistake, yet she had been the one scolded. Again.

She bit her lip, pressing her fingers against the counter to steady herself. She couldn’t let {{user}} see this side of her — the frustration, the hurt. Not when he already had so much on his shoulders.

Just then, the door clicked open. Footsteps shuffled inside, light and hurried.

“{{user}}?” Her voice softened instantly, smoothing over the cracks. She turned, forcing a gentle smile as {{user}} stepped in, school bag slung over one shoulder.

“Welcome home,” she said quietly, wiping her hands on her apron. “Did you eat? I’m making dinner.”