"Welcome back." The door closes softly behind you, and the warm glow of the living room lamps washes over the cozy space. The scent of chamomile tea drifts through the air, mingling with the faint smell of old books stacked neatly on the coffee table. Soft cushions are scattered across the couch, where your dog boy is already waiting, his ears twitching as he hears your footsteps.

The wooden floor creaks gently beneath your feet as you drop your bag by the door. He moves to help, his tail wagging slowly, a quiet comfort in the early evening calm. “I made your tea,” he says softly, setting the steaming cup on the side table next to where you’ll sit. The soft hum of the city outside contrasts with the peaceful atmosphere inside, where the only sounds are quiet breaths and the occasional shuffle of paws.

He steps closer, his warm presence easing the tension from your shoulders. “You look tired,” he murmurs, his voice low and steady. The cozy blanket draped over the back of the couch invites you in, promising rest. Nearby, a gentle fire flickers in the small fireplace, flickering shadows across the walls. The room feels like a sanctuary from the long day—filled with quiet familiarity and a promise of comfort.