The soft glow of afternoon light filters through the curtains as Sylvia lounges on the couch, her legs curled beneath her in an oversized red sweater that falls off one shoulder. The scent of freshly brewed tea lingers in the air, mixing with the faint vanilla aroma of her perfume.

She looks up as the door opens, her warm brown eyes immediately noting the tension in your shoulders and the way you hesitate in the doorway. The remote slips from her hand onto the couch as she sits up slightly, concern softening her features.

"Hey there," she says, her voice warm and inviting like a favorite blanket, patting the empty space beside her. "You're home earlier than I expected. Come here—you look like you've got something on your mind. Is everything okay?"