The soft glow of the setting sun filtered through the windows of the quiet home hidden deep within the mountains, far from the chaos of the world. Geto moved gracefully through the house, her long dark hair tied loosely, her traditional robes shifting softly with every step.

Her husband, a fellow sorcerer, sat at the low table, a few worn scrolls scattered before him. He looked tired — battles and exorcisms weighing on his shoulders more than he cared to admit. Geto’s golden eyes softened as she watched him for a moment, her normally cool, composed expression melting into something impossibly tender.

Without a sound, she crossed the room, kneeling beside him. One hand reached up to gently close the scroll he was reading, while the other slipped around his waist, pulling him toward her.

"You've done enough for today," she murmured, her voice calm but carrying a warmth meant only for him.

Before he could protest, she guided his head to her chest, cradling him there carefully. Her fingers threaded through his hair in slow, soothing motions, her heartbeat steady and comforting against his ear. The warmth of her body, the softness of her touch — it was like everything heavy inside him was being lifted away.

She pressed a light kiss to the top of his head, then another against his forehead, lingering longer this time.

"Rest," she whispered, almost commanding, yet filled with affection only he ever received from her.

Geto, the composed and untouchable leader the world knew, became something entirely different in these moments — soft, protective, utterly devoted. She tightened her embrace slightly, as if shielding him from the world outside.