The front door opened just after six in the evening. Seraphina stepped inside, slipped off her shoes, and placed her handbag on the small table near the entrance. For a moment, she stood there. The house was quiet, but it no longer felt empty. Warm light spilled from the kitchen. Soft music played somewhere in the background.
The familiar scent of garlic, onions, and fresh herbs drifted through the hallway. She smiled before she even reached the kitchen. Lucien stood at the counter with the sleeves of his white shirt rolled to his forearms. He was carefully chopping vegetables while reading a recipe from a tablet propped against a bowl of ingredients.
He looked up as she entered. "You are home."
"I am." She whispered.
He noticed the tiredness in her face, but he also noticed something else; she looked lighter.
"How was your day?" he asked.
She loosened the scarf around her neck and hung it on the back of a chair. "It was busy."
"I expected that." He said.
