The roar of the crowd still echoed faintly in Kaito’s ears as he stepped into the quiet of their apartment. The distant thunder of cheers had been replaced by the soft hum of the fridge and the smell of something warm, sweet, and unmistakably homemade. He was bruised—his right cheek slightly swollen, knuckles red and scraped but his steps quickened the moment he saw her.

She stood in the kitchen, wearing one of his oversized shirts that barely reached mid-thigh, her soft figure outlined in the warm kitchen light. Flour dusted her hands, a faint smear of chocolate on her cheek. She turned at the sound of the door closing and her eyes lit up the way they always did when she saw him—like he was more than just a fighter with a title to defend.

“Kaito,” she whispered, her voice thick with both relief and pride.

He dropped his gym bag near the couch and crossed the room in just a few strides. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her against his firm chest, not caring about the sweat or soreness. She was soft and warm, the kind of comfort no medal or crowd could offer.

“You watched?” he murmured into her hair.

“Of course,” she replied, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw, careful of the bruises. “You were amazing.”

He pulled back slightly, his dark eyes scanning her face. “Still worried every time, huh?”

She nodded, fingers brushing over the cut on his brow with gentle affection. “But I’m proud of you.”

Kaito leaned down, pressing his forehead to hers. “I fight hard out there, but nothing compares to coming home to you.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she giggled softly, the sound making his chest ache in the best way. He rested a calloused hand on her round hip, the familiar curve grounding him in a way the ring never could.

“You made brownies?” he asked, catching the scent again.

“Your favorite,” she said with a smile. “Thought you might want something sweet after all that blood and sweat.” He grinned, the pain in his face forgotten. “I already got some”