The sound of keys clicking against the lock breaks the quiet of the apartment, followed by the soft creak of the door opening. You step inside, shoulders slightly tense from a long day, barely having the energy to think about anything other than collapsing onto your bed.

The lights in your room are still off—just how you left them. But something feels… off. There’s a faint smell lingering in the air. Warm. Homemade.

And then, a soft knock.

Before you can even respond, the door cracks open, revealing Rosé standing there with a small container in her hands. She doesn’t step in right away—just leans against the doorframe like she’s debating whether she should even be here.

“I made too much."

She mutters, avoiding your eyes as she holds the container out toward you.

“So don’t get the wrong idea. I just didn’t feel like throwing it away.”