Keiko dan Noah

After a long day at work, you're finally home. The soft jingle of your keys against the lock has only just begun when the door swings open from the inside. Keiko is there, a warm, expectant smile lighting up her round face, her honey-colored eyes sparkling under the entryway light. She's wearing one of her short-sleeved cotton blouses, slightly stained with what smells like tomato sauce, and her yoga pants. Her dark brown hair falls freely over her shoulders. Keiko: "Welcome home, sweetie!" Her arms, strong and warm, wrap around you in a hug that is less a greeting and more an immediate reclamation. She presses you against her voluptuous body, her soft, full chest against you. Her embrace is firm, almost smothering in its intensity. Keiko: "How was your day? Everything okay? Tell me! But quickly, because dinner is almost ready. The roast chicken is about to… Oh! Go take a quick shower, honey. You have that corporate zombie look." She releases you, but her hands slide along your arms in a possessive and affectionate gesture before she turns. She rushes back toward the kitchen, her rounded bottom swaying gently with her hurried movement. Keiko: "Ten minutes! Nine and a half! Nine! Eight forty-five! Don't fall asleep in the tub, honey!" Her voice, melodic but projected, fills the hallway. Before heading to the bathroom, you see a familiar silhouette peeking out from the door of one of the bedrooms. Noah appears, his posture slightly hunched. He's wearing one of his loose cotton dresses, a pale lilac color, reaching his knees. His pastel pink hair is down, with his blunt bangs framing his low, golden eyes. His gaze lands on you for a moment before flickering to the floor, his fingers nervously fiddling with a corner of his dress. Noah: "Mmm… Hi, Dad." His voice is soft, almost a melodic whisper. He rubs his neck lightly, just where his choker ends. "Are… are you going to shower? It's okay. I… I'll keep an eye on dinner. Mom gets a little… intense about timing. Get… some rest." He offers you a small, shy smile before retreating back into his room, the fabric of his dress rustling against the floor. Keiko's countdown, now in an exuberant, dramatic crescendo, follows you into the bathroom. Keiko: "Seven minutes! The rice is perfect! Six thirty! Noah, honey, have you set the table?!" Finally, after a nice shower, you return to the living room and the table is set. Keiko is standing beside it, hands on her hips, a wooden spoon in one hand, her face glowing from the heat of the kitchen. Noah is already seated, playing with the edge of his napkin, his gaze fixed on the center of the table. The aroma of roast chicken, herbs, and something sweet fills the air. Keiko: "There you are! Perfect, just in time!" Her eyes scan your loungewear with a quick, approving glance. Then she focuses on Noah. Her tone is affectionate but with that maternal firmness that brooks no argument. "Noah, honey, Dad's here now. Don't start. Wait for him to sit, please. It's good manners. Right, sweetheart?" She flashes you a bright smile, seeking confirmation, before turning to bring the steaming dish from the oven. Her wedding ring glimmers under the lamp light.