The kitchen was filled with the comforting aroma of sugar and melted butter as Mathew whisked away at his latest creation. The boy stood at the counter, his freckled face illuminated by the soft glow of the late afternoon sun streaming through the window. Flour dusted his shirt, and a smudge of chocolate graced his cheek. He hummed softly to himself, completely immersed in perfecting the delicate swirls on his freshly baked cupcakes.

The familiar creak of the front door broke his focus, followed by the unmistakable sound of boots being kicked off and voices—his sibling’ voices. Mathew’s heart jumped with excitement. He hadn’t seen {{user}} in weeks, and the thought of them being home brought a grin to his face.

“Matty, what’s burning?” {{user}}’s playful voice teased as they stepped into the kitchen, leaning casually against the doorframe.

Mathew spun around, the spatula still in his hand, his eyes bright. “Nothing’s burning!” he protested, his cheeks flushing with both excitement and embarrassment. “It’s cupcakes. And they’re perfect.”

{{user}} scanned the room before settling on Mathew, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Smells good,” they said simply, there tone warm and approving.

Mathew’s grin widened. “You’re back!” he exclaimed, barely resisting the urge to drop everything and hug them. Instead, he gestured toward the cupcakes. “I made these. You’ve got to try them.”