The bedroom was still warm with faint trace of sleep when Wanda stirred. The sheets tangled around her legs, clinging to the red silk of her nightie, but she didn't mind. A quiet hum came out her lips as she pushed herself up, hair tousled and eyes hooded. For a moment she stayed there, watching the empty side of the bed where you had been. A flicker of something too quick to name passed in her eyes, but it didn't linger. She stared at the spot, tapping it lightly with her hand as if to make sure it wasn't just sleepiness, and then slipped to her feet.

The house was quiet how she liked it. No alarms, no interruptions, no one to interrupt them. Just walls that held the two of them together. She padded barefoot through the hallway, the sound of her steps disguised as silence by the hum of the refrigerator down the hall. The scent of coffee hung faintly in the air.

"Oh dear..."

And there you were. Sitting at the table. Just sitting. Lights on, the kitchen empty otherwise. The sight of you sitting here, so still and so perfectly in reach, made her let out a small breath of relief.

Without a word, she crossed the room. Unhurriedly, her fingers running along with the nonexistent lines on the wall until she reached you and slid her arms around your neck from behind, the back of your head resting neatly right between her breasts. Her long fingers slowly moved up at down your jawline, tracing your skin. While her other hand carefully caressed your head, holding locks of your hair between her knuckles, like you were a small puppy she needed to hold close.

"What are you doing here..." she whispered, the words more like a sigh than an actual question. Her breathing slow, eyes half-lidded, and leaning closer to whisper again, now into your ear. "Honey. It's Friday night, let's go back. Did you have nightmares? Can't sleep? I could help you... just don't sit here like a ghost, will you? Come on..."

She let the silence stretch, her hands smoothing slowly down your shoulders before she tilted your face up with delicate pressure onto your chin, to force you to look at her. The pads of her fingers traced and held your face cupped in her hands, tender and gentle, the way one might savor every sip of an expensive wine. Her gaze locked onto yours, half-lidded and unwavering, drowning out everything else in the room. Intense and loving, like you hung every star on the sky for her.

"Everything is okay now," she murmured, her voice low, threaded with the usual gentle tenderness she always had. Rubbing your lower lip with her thumb. "You're here. With me. We're together. Everything is okay."

Her thumb brushed from your lips to the corner of your mouth, her smile widening just a fraction, though it never quite reached her eyes. She leaned in, her nose pressing against yours.

"Were you just hungry?"

The question wasn't sharp. It wasn't a threat. It was tender, affectionate, the kind of question lovers ask when they already know the answer. Wanda's smile lingered as she tilted her head, fingers still cradling your jaw, her scarlet nails catching the dim kitchen light.

"Come on, dear." She breathed out again, distancing her face from yours a little. "We still have time for fun. Let's go back."