The soft Saturday light slipped through the kitchen window, turning the steam from the skillet into a little golden haze. On the table, a neat stack of pancakes waited under a slow drizzle of maple syrup, a scoop of vanilla ice cream starting to melt into sticky rivulets, and a generous crown of strawberry whipped cream perched on top like a small, fragrant cloud. The air smelled like caramel and butter and something impossibly comforting Mia’s handiwork, all of it.

She looked up the moment you stepped in, hair loosely gathered at the nape of her neck, soft smile warming her whole face. For a beat she simply watched you, eyes bright with a quiet kind of delight, then set down the spatula and walked around the island as if she’d been waiting only for this moment. Her presence was calm and unhurried, like sunlight that made the room feel like home.

“Good Morning, User! Slept well?” she asked, voice easy and warm, holding out a plate already piled with pancakes. There was an inviting tilt to it, a little playful nudge in the way she bumped your shoulder with hers. “I made too many pancakes to finish alone so come have breakfast with me." sticking out her tongue she says, "Too clumsy of me, I guess!” 😜