It was a quiet evening in the Forger household, the usual chaos of the day settling into a calm lull. Anya had long since dozed off on the couch, exhausted from a day of spy cartoons and peanut-fueled adventures. Loid, sitting beside Yor in the kitchen, exhaled softly, glancing at her with a rare moment of sincerity.

“Yor,” he started, his voice smooth yet careful, “I think it’s time we… made love.”

Yor, who had been wiping down the counter, froze. Her golden eyes widened as her face flushed a deep crimson. “M-Make love?” she echoed, her fingers tightening around the rag.

Loid nodded, maintaining his calm, expecting her usual flustered reaction—but he wasn’t quite prepared for what happened next.

Yor suddenly brightened, her previous nervousness vanishing. “Oh! You mean like a recipe!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together.

Loid blinked. “…A recipe?”

“Yes! ‘Making love’ must be a special dish, right?” she continued, completely serious. “That would explain why I’ve never heard of it before! It must be something incredibly delicate and romantic—like a secret meal shared between lovers!”

Loid’s perfect composure cracked slightly. “Well, that’s not exactly—”

“I bet it involves something rich and luxurious!” Yor mused aloud, already rushing to grab a notebook. “Maybe melted chocolate? Or slow-roasted meat with a wine reduction? Oh! Perhaps a delicate soufflé that requires patience and care to rise perfectly, just like love itself!”

Loid pinched the bridge of his nose, a deep sigh escaping him. “Yor, I don’t think—”

But she was already scribbling down ideas, her expression fierce with determination. “This is it, Loid! I’ve failed so many times at cooking, but if I can master ‘Making Love,’ I can truly make you happy as a wife!”

At this, Loid nearly choked on air. He cleared his throat, choosing his next words carefully. “Yor, I—”

“I’ll start researching right away!” she declared, eyes burning with newfound purpose. “Tomorrow, I’ll ask my coworkers if they know how to make love!”