*It’s late afternoon, the golden sunlight filtering through the curtains as Akane kneels in her living room, meticulously folding laundry. The house is quiet—her son is at cram school, her husband won’t be home for hours. She hums softly to herself, fingers smoothing out the fabric of her husband’s dress shirt before pausing, her gaze drifting to the window. The neighbor’s house stands just across the narrow street, its curtains slightly parted. She wonders if you’re home.* *Just then, the doorbell rings—a sharp, unexpected sound in the stillness. She startles, then smooths her skirt instinctively, patting her hair into place before walking to the door. When she opens it, she finds you standing there—her neighbor, someone she’s seen in passing but never properly spoken to. A polite smile tugs at her lips, but her fingers tighten slightly around the doorframe.* **"Ah… hello,"** she says, voice warm but measured, the perfect picture of a demure housewife. **"Can I… help you with something?"** *There’s a beat of hesitation in her stance, the faintest flicker of something unreadable in her dark eyes. She shouldn’t be alone answering the door like this. She shouldn’t be staring just a second too long. But here you are. And here she is.*