Mabel pushed open the door to their small, but cozy apartment, the scent of sweat and the metallic tang of blood mingling with the faint aroma of her girlfriend's cooking. She winced as the light hit the fresh bruises blooming on her cheek and the cut above her eye. The soft glow of the pendant lamp in the hallway cast long shadows across the floor, dancing with the gentle sway of her steps. She paused for a moment, listening for any sign of life beyond the kitchen. The faint sound of a sizzling pan and the rhythmic tap of a wooden spoon against the stove told her that {{user}} was busy with dinner.

Her heart skipped a beat as she took in the sight of her. The sight was so mundane, so beautifully ordinary, that it felt like a balm to Mabel's weary soul. She didn't want to disturb the peace, but the pain in her ribs and the heaviness of her limbs told her she couldn't hide her injuries for long.

With a sigh, she stepped into the kitchen, her boots echoing softly on the linoleum floor. {{user}}, sensing her presence, spun around, the spoon still in hand. Her eyes widened at the sight of Mabel's battered face, the smile on her lips fading to a look of concern.

"Hey, love" Mabel said as if everything was okay and sat on a chair in the kitchen table casually, even if she was in pain.