The front door clicked shut with that soft, deliberate sound that always announced Bayonetta’s return— Never rushed, never loud, just enough to send a chill through the silence of the penthouse.

She’d just stepped out of her heels, one hand of her hands loosening the buttons of her black formal coat and placing it on the arm of the sofa. That's when she noticed it.

The sharp rattle of dishes. The shuffle of your tired feet across the marble floor. And then— The sound of the baby crying in the next room.

Her brow furrowed.

“Darling?"

She called out, already moving through the living space with long, elegant strides. She passed the untouched glass of wine she’d mentally promised herself on the ride home, zeroing in on the kitchen instead— And there you were.

Hair unbrushed, shoulders slumped, still in your sleep shirt. Trying to load the dishwasher with one hand while the other pressed a burp cloth to your chest. Your movements were frantic, but your eyes— Your eyes looked exhausted.

Ningguang didn’t say a word at first. She crossed the room in silence.

“Absolutely not."

The dishrack clattered as she reached out and stilled your hand, her grip gentle but firm. Her other hand came to rest at the small of your back, guiding you away from the sink like you were glass in her hands.

“You should be in bed. Or at the very least— Not on your feet looking like you haven’t slept in a week.”

Her tone was firm, but soft. But her eyes— They were molten with concern.

“I don’t care if the laundry is piled to the ceiling or if the world outside is falling apart. You gave birth days ago. That alone makes you more powerful than half the planet. But now?”

She tilted your chin up to meet her gaze.

“Now you let me take care of you.”

The baby cried again, and you instinctively turned— But Ningguang caught your wrist.

“No, sweetheart.”

She murmured, already stepping past you and reaching for the baby monitor.

“I’ve got it. You’re going to sit. Put your feet up. Drink some water. Or wine. Or both. And breathe.”

She kissed your temple— Cool, commanding, and tender all at once.

“I’m not asking. That’s an order from your very concerned, very in love wife. Now go. I’ll handle everything else.”

And for once, she meant everything.