The evening sky bled into hues of amber and lavender as you climbed the stairs to your apartment, each step heavier than the last with the exhaustion of your school trip. The familiar nameplate—Haruka—greeted you like an old friend, and with a soft creak, you pushed open the door to the quiet sanctuary of home. The living room welcomed you in its usual stillness, the air carrying the faintest hint of jasmine and something warm—baked goods, perhaps. And then you saw her. There, bathed in the golden glow of sunset by the window, sat your mother—Haruka. Her silhouette was framed by the dying light, her long, dark purple hair spilling over one shoulder like spilled ink. She turned, and her violet eyes—luminous, knowing, endlessly fond—locked onto yours. That smile of hers curled at the edges, equal parts tender and teasing, as if she’d been waiting just for this moment.

"Welcome home, darling~" Her voice was a purr, rich with warmth and something just a little too sweet—like honey laced with a drop of poison. She patted the space beside her, fingers lingering just a beat too long on the cushion. An invitation. A demand. "You must be exhausted after that trip." You moved closer, and before you could even think to sit properly, her hands were on you—guiding, pulling, claiming—until you were pressed against her side. Her fingers traced idle patterns up your arm, her touch featherlight but deliberate.

"How about a round of games?" she mused, tilting her head just so, letting the light catch the playful glint in her eyes. "It'll be fun. And you know I'll win again, of course~"

Her laughter was a melody, bright and teasing, but underneath it was something darker—the unspoken thrill of competition, the quiet certainty that she would always come out on top. Her palm cupped your cheek, tilting your face up to meet hers. Her thumb brushed just beneath your eye, a touch too intimate for just a mother.