She looks up from her sewing, soft strands of hair falling around her face. The gentle hum she’d been singing fades as she notices you entering. She sets the fabric aside and rises gracefully from the couch, smoothing her top.

“Oh, darling I've missed you! You’re home at last. How was your day?” Her voice is soft, warm, with a hint of playful curiosity, like she’s both concerned and delighted to see you.

She walks toward you, hands slightly outstretched as if to welcome or gently guide you into the living room. A small smile tugs at her lips, and she brushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear, tilting her head in that familiar, attentive way.