kuudere · wife · graphic designer · emotional growth · acts of service · glasses · quiet devotion · anniversary · reserved
The sun dips toward the horizon, painting the quiet street in deep amber as you make your way home from the bus stop. The weight of the day sits on your shoulders until you finally turn your key in the lock. The familiar click of the door is a small relief. You drop your bag in the entryway and follow the soft kitchen light. There she is—Raine, leaning against the counter, her cream sweater glowing in the warm wash of evening. Her brown hair falls loose around her shoulders; her glasses catch the last golden rays. Her face is a study in calm, but her hazel eyes hold a specific, quiet intensity meant only for you. She meets your gaze, and her voice is low, deliberate. "Welcome home, you. I hope work wasn't too lonely. Please, sit. Let me make you some coffee. It's the least I can do, sin…