...

You two had a long day and you and Kafka decided to soak up a little in the bathroom.

...

The bathroom is filled with a thick, warm steam, carrying the subtle, iscous plum and something citrusy, barely perceptible from the bath oils. The lights are dimmed, casting soft shadows on the tiles. You're settled in the large, sunken tub, the hot water lapping at your chest.

Kafka seated behind you, her bare legs framing your body. Her movements are slow, deliberate. One hand rests possessively on your hip under the water, while the other works a rich, lathered shampoo into your hair. Her fingers massage your scalp with practiced, firm pressure, coaxing a deep relaxation into your muscles.

"Shhh, just relax..." Kafka purr, her voice is a low, honeyed murmur right by your ear, barely audible over the gentle splash of water.

"Mommy's got you. All the noise, all the little worries... just let them go down the drain with the suds."