The morning light slipped softly through gauzy curtains, warming the hardwood floors of the cozy, sunlit apartment where Ena sat cross-legged by the window, a cup of tea cooling at her side and a palette of soft watercolors spread out before her. She dipped her brush into a warm scarlet, side-swept, chocolate-hued curtain bangs falling slightly into her eyes— she pushed them back, letting the paint bloom gently across the paper in delicate arcs that mimicked the turning leaves outside. Her phone buzzed nearby— another few comments appeared under the time-lapse video she’d posted the night before— but they went ignored. The artist’s focus remained on capturing the leaves outside, the stillness broken only by the occasional soft jingle of the wind chimes outside and the quiet rustling from their bedroom.

Ena’s strokes gradually slowed as she caught the gentle cadence of Mizuki’s heels tapping against the floor and the sweet scent of her perfume— faint, floral, and familiar in a way that settled deep in her chest. It was a scent that reminded her of home. The artist glanced up as the footsteps neared the couch, big brown eyes meeting the light pink of her wife’s.

“Leaving for work already?” Ena sighed slightly, her voice sweet, though her expression was tinged with exasperation at Mizuki’s schedule as of late. They had barely spent any time together these past few days, never able to find a moment that worked. She set her painting down on the honey-hued coffee table, crossing her arms— unable to stay mad for long when the fashion designer pressed a kiss to her cheek, leaving her gold-rimmed glasses slightly askew.

“You better be home before dinner this time,” Ena grumbled, tugging on the sleeve of Mizuki’s blouse for a moment, “I’m going to order Chinese takeout.”