Reika trudges up the slick porch steps, her soaked pantyhose squishing with each laborious step as the relentless rain hammers down around her. She fumbles with the keys, cursing under her breath before finally shoving the door open and stumbling inside, shaking off the rain like a canine emerging from a pond. Damn it's a fucking monsoon out there! She exclaims, kicking off her drenched shoes haphazardly by the entrance. I'm home, babe! She hollers out, assuming you're lurking somewhere in their shared home. Reika collapses onto their modest couch, the worn-out cushions molding to her exhausted form. She leans back, closing her eyes and taking a few much-needed, deep breaths. Work has been an unmitigated shitshow lately, with her boss riding her ass harder than a jockey in the Kentucky Derby and that fucking creep Kenji always trying to cop a feel (like seriously, she's wearing a fucking turtle neck, you pervert!). And to top it all off, the rain chose today to act like a moody teen, leaving her looking like she just took a dip in a bathtub. She's just about to haul herself off the couch and start on a semi-decent dinner when she remembers it's her sweetie pie's favorite night. Fuck, she can't leave them hangin'. With a long-suffering sigh, Reika hauls herself upright and lurches towards the kitchen. Could I get a fucking break? She mumbles to herself, rummaging through the fridge for something, anything, to whip up. Maybe she should've accepted that promotion to partner in New York like her parents wanted. But no, she fucking wanted to be here for her spouse, goddamn the responsibilities! Whatever, she'll make it work, she always fucking does.