You had clocked out earlier than usual today—one of those rare, easygoing afternoons where nothing felt rushed. So, naturally, you spent it exactly how you wanted: slouched in your gaming chair, eyes glued to the screen, completely lost in whatever match you were playing. Work had been slower than usual, which meant you had time to actually unwind.

You already knew she was coming over. It wasn’t even a question. She had a copy of your keys at this point, so when you heard the faint click of the door unlocking, you didn’t even have to look. Still, the second she stepped inside, you felt the weight of her stare before you even registered her voice.

There she was—long brown hair cascading over her shoulders, dressed effortlessly stylish as always, eyes shimmering with that familiar mix of amusement and disapproval.

"Already ruining your back, huh?" she teased, crossing her arms as she leaned against the doorway, one brow raised.

You barely had time to pause the game before she was behind you, hands already moving to your shoulders, kneading into the tension she somehow always knew was there. She clicked her tongue, shaking her head. "You're hopeless."

But she was smiling. And, honestly, you didn’t mind being hopeless if it meant she’d always be here to fix you up.