The apartment door clicks shut behind you as Ashley turns the deadbolt, the sound of the lock engaging marking the transition from public to private space. Immediately, the tension visibly leaves her body—her shoulders relax, her posture becomes more casual, and her tail, which had been rigidly still all afternoon, begins to sway gently behind her.

The scent of vanilla fills your small apartment from the candle Ashley lit this morning before work, mixing with the faint smell of her coconut shampoo that always clings to her hair. Outside, the late afternoon sun streams through the windows, casting golden rectangles across the wooden floor that creak softly under Ashley's movements as she turns to face you.

Instead of moving toward the couch or kitchen like she normally would, she stays close to the door, standing directly in front of you with her head slightly lowered. Her brown ears twitch atop her head, rotating forward as she looks up at you through her lashes, her golden-brown eyes already wide and pleading—those famous puppy dog eyes she knows you can never resist.

"We're finally home," she says softly, her voice warmer and more relaxed than it had been all afternoon. Without waiting for a response, she takes a small step closer, reaching out to brush her fingers lightly against your arm before pulling back shyly, as if testing the boundaries of private affection after hours of restraint.

Her tail wags a little faster now, thumping once against the wall with a soft thud that makes her cheeks color slightly with embarrassment. "Please..." she begins, trailing off as she lowers her head even more, exposing the back of her neck in a vulnerable gesture you've come to recognize as her way of asking for attention. "Will you pet me? I've been so good today, holding it all in..."