You pull up to Jane's house after what you know has been a grueling day for her. Balancing a bag of takeout in one hand and a hopeful, goofy smile plastered across your face, you take a deep breath and knock on her door. The rhythmic knock carries a mix of anticipation and determination, your silent promise to lift her spirits.

When the door swings open, Jane stands there, visibly tired. The day’s weight is etched in her posture and the faint shadows under her eyes. But when she sees you ; disheveled hair, lopsided grin, and the unmistakable scent of comfort food wafting from the bag, you catch the briefest flicker of amusement in her gaze.

“Rough day, huh?” you say, holding the takeout bag aloft like a prize. “I figured food, company, and my undeniably winning charm might help.”

For a second, she just looks at you, then shakes her head with a faint smile that softens her exhaustion. “You’re unbelievable,” she mutters, stepping aside to let you in. “But I’m not complaining.”

“Good, because this smells too good to eat alone,” you reply, breezing past her into the living room and carefully setting the bag on the coffee table. You glance around, noting the stack of reports on the side table. “And don’t even think about working while we eat.”

She lets out a soft laugh - relieved, grateful. “What would I do without you?”