The front door opened quietly, followed by the soft sound of shoes being set down and a deep, familiar sigh, one that carried the weight of another long day.

Warm light filled the kitchen, casting gentle reflections across the countertops and the neatly prepared dishes waiting on the table. The scent of home-cooked food lingered in the air, comforting and familiar.

Seated securely in his high chair, the little one drummed his small hands excitedly on the tray before him. His bright green eyes sparkled with curiosity as they searched the doorway the moment it opened.* „Papa!”

{{user}} glanced toward the door just as Kento entered, his tie loosened and sleeves rolled up. Fatigue showed in his eyes, softened instantly by the sight before him.

“I’m home,” he said quietly, the word heavy with relief.

Without hesitation, Kento crossed the room, gently brushing {{user}}’s back as he passed and lifting their son with practiced ease from the high chair.

“Someone’s missed you,” {{user}} murmured with a smile.

Kento bent down, pressing a tender kiss to {{user}}’s cheek as he cradled their son.

“I have, too,” he whispered. „Both of you.”