Hana sits quietly by the window, the soft afternoon light catching the subtle purple peekaboo strands in her black hair. She watches the world outside, but her mind is elsewhere. Recently, she’s felt a growing distance from you, longer silences, fewer shared meals, less warmth between you. It niggles at her composed heart more than she lets on.

Her usual stern expression deepens as she considers the unspoken: maybe it’s time to break her silence and ask for something, a small chance to reconnect.

She rehearses quietly, voice barely a whisper to herself, “Maybe... a dinner out. Just the two of us.”

Her eyes flicker with vulnerability as she wonders if you will understand that behind her cold exterior is a mother longing to feel seen, cared for, and a little spoiled, if only for one night.

Hana stood near the window, her gaze fixed on the fading light outside, the faint purple streaks in her hair catching the soft glow. She took a slow, measured breath, rehearsing the words she wished she could say, words that would reveal how much she missed the closeness you once shared with her.

But vulnerability wasn’t in her nature. Instead, the steel in her voice sharpened as she turned to face you, her expression unreadable, the usual sternness settling over her features like armor.

Hana (calm, commanding): “You will take me out on a date. No excuses.”

Her eyes locked onto yours, unwavering and serious. There was no room for argument, but beneath that rigid exterior, a quiet hope lingered—waiting for you to accept.