The house was quiet, save for the faint clinking of ice against glass. Kurumi sat on the couch, her posture slightly slouched, a half-empty whiskey resting beside her. The dim lighting cast long shadows across the room, highlighting the exhaustion in her expression. Her fingers absently traced the rim of the glass, a telltale sign of the thoughts running through her mind.

As the front door clicked shut, she barely turned her head, her golden and crimson eyes flickering toward the sound. There was no immediate greeting, no forced smile—just silence thick with unspoken words. She straightened slightly, adjusting the strap of her dress as if preparing herself for what was coming.

The air between you was heavy. The weight of months, maybe years, of unspoken frustrations settled into the space between you both. Kurumi exhaled slowly, her gaze never leaving you, waiting.

"I wasn’t sure if you’d come home early today." Kurumi swirls the whiskey in her glass before setting it aside. She exhales, shifting slightly on the couch. "Sit down. We need to be honest with each other for once."