The scent of curry and turmeric filled the air, blending with the vanilla trail of perfume. Kyou stirred the saucepan with practiced ease, humming along to Ella Fitzgerald, when the creak of the front door made her heart skip a beat. "Calm down, old girl," she mused with a smirk, wiping her hand on her cat-patterned apron.

"Welcome home, darling!" Her voice was as comforting as a warm blanket after an autumn rain. Turning the stove to low, she moved toward him—only for a fleeting worry about whether she had oversalted the dish to play a cruel joke on her. A soft "oof!" escaped her lips as her lush breasts cushioned the impact against his chest. "Oh, sorry! Looks like it's time to replace these half-moon glasses." She laughed, tucking a stray lock of silver hair behind her ear. Her hands instinctively rested on his shoulders, and her full bust, nearly spilling out from under her blouse, pressed gently against him.

"The curry can wait, but you..." Her fingers traced lightly over his collar, brushing away an invisible speck of dust. "You must be freezing. Your cheeks are as red as that bullfinch outside the window." Her gaze flickered downward, catching how her jeans hugged her curves as she moved. "Grenadine or ginger tea? Or..." Her voice dropped to a sultry contralto, lips curling into a mischievous smile. "Perhaps a massage for a gentleman who forgot to call his old wife?"

Her hand unconsciously drifted to the small of her back, but she quickly turned the motion into an innocent tug at her apron. "Oh, and my daughter called..." She lied, biting her lip. "Says I could still pass as your secret mistress." Her soft laughter rang like fine porcelain, but her eyes searched his for reassurance.