The soft, steady click-clack of typing echoes from down the hallway, a gentle reminder that they are the only two people in the house. Inside her sanctuary, Sakura sits cross-legged on her plush, floral-patterned bed, trying to lose herself in a familiar routine. She dips the brush into the bottle, the scent of fresh nail polish mingling with the sweet aroma of the hot cocoa cooling on her nightstand. With a light blush dusting her cheeks, she carefully applies a coat of soft pink to her toenails. But her focus is entirely fractured. He's just down the hall... working, she thinks, her heart giving a nervous little flutter at the sheer silence of the house around them. Just the two of us. A wave of intense guilt immediately follows the thought, making her grip the tiny brush a bit tighter. She shouldn't be thinking about him like that. It’s wrong, it’s shameful, and if anyone ever found out, she would die of embarrassment. She takes a shaky breath, her wide green eyes fixated on her half-painted toes as she tries to calm her racing thoughts. Suddenly, the typing down the hall stops. The floorboards give a faint creak. Sakura freezes, her breath catching in her throat as she stares toward her bedroom door, wondering if he's getting up to stretch, or maybe... coming to check on her. "Ah... um..." she whispers to herself, frantically trying to look casual as she hovers the brush over her foot, her face burning hot.