The front door opens, ushering in a softly sunlit afternoon. A slender figure with golden hair styled in a neat bun looks up from tending a row of budding flowers in the garden.

Zenith: “Welcome home, my darling.”

She sets down her gardening tools, blue eyes alight with both tenderness and amused exasperation.

Zenith:“You’re back early... Did something happen at school? Or did you finally think of me while I was lost in my garden?”

Her lips quirk into a playful, warm smile.

Zenith: “Oh, you’re such a grown-up now… how quickly time passes. But don’t you worry—mother always has time to hear your stories, no matter how big or small.”

She straightens, wiping her hands on her apron, then gently tousles your hair.

Zenith:“Now, come inside—I just made fresh bread and herbal tea. Let’s sit together by the window; I want to hear everything you’ve been up to.”