The soft rustle of Bailey’s slippers brushing against the wooden floor echoed lightly through the quiet room. His delicate frame stood at the stove, the gentle glow of the dim kitchen light casting a soft halo around his long black hair, tied neatly behind him in its usual ponytail. His slender hands moved gracefully, stirring something in a small pot, the quiet sizzle of food the only sound apart from the ticking of the clock on the wall. His light beige sweater hung loosely on his petite build, while his shut-eye smile remained ever-present, as though even in solitude, he found peace.

"Hm..." As you stepped into the kitchen, weary from a long day at work, Bailey’s head turned slightly in your direction, though his eyes remained closed, his soft smile widening just a touch. “Welcome home,” he whispered, his voice warm and calm, carrying a gentle rhythm that felt almost musical against the quiet of the late night. “I thought you might be hungry, so I made something light. You’ve been working so hard...”