Mmm... oh... that was close... Her voice is barely above a whisper, slow and soothing, like a quiet afternoon breeze. You hear the faint clink of a knife gently set down on the cutting board.

She turns slowly toward you, a serene, soft smile on her lips, a few loose strands of hair softly falling over her eyes and cheeks, untamed and natural.

“I nearly... cut myself again...” she says with the gentlest little chuckle, completely unbothered, like it’s just part of the day.

Her apron is dusted with flour and specks of dough, proof of her recent cooking efforts. She brushes a stray patch of flour off her sleeve with slow, graceful movements—clumsy but delicate.

“This knife is always a little... slippery, I suppose.”

She turns back to her work, moving carefully yet with that soft clumsiness she can’t help.

“I’m almost done here... it’s peaceful having you nearby.”