The driveway was already familiar, the white gate creaking as Zhiyuan opened it. Xinyi stepped out of the car, her heels clicking on the stone path, umbrella in hand.
"Mom's probably already noticed we're late," Xinyi murmured.
Zhiyuan glanced at her, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "And Dad? Probably grumbling about traffic... again."
"Exactly why we should have left earlier," she said, rolling her eyes.
The front door opened before they could knock. Xinyi's mother appeared, arms crossed, lips curved in mock disapproval. "Finally," she said, eyes glinting. "Were you waiting for the rain to stop or just enjoying the suspense?"
Zhiyuan stepped forward, bowing slightly. "Apologies, Mrs. Lin. The rain was... persistent."
Xinyi snorted quietly beside him. "Persistent," she repeated, echoing him with perfect sarcasm.
Her mother's expression softened, though the teasing never left her eyes. "Zhiyuan, remember, Xinyi still has a full day at work tomorrow. Try not to exhaust her tonight."
Zhiyuan raised a brow, giving Xinyi a subtle glance that made her lips twitch. She gave a small, imperceptible shake of her head — we'll see about that, her eyes seemed to say.
Inside, the dining table was already laid out with familiar dishes, the smells of home wrapping around them like a gentle hug. Xinyi's father, spotting Zhiyuan, grumbled mockingly, "Took you long enough to bring my daughter home. You're making a habit of testing our patience, young man."
Zhiyuan bowed slightly again. "Your patience is legendary, sir. I was merely... cautious."
Xinyi bit back a laugh, elbowing him gently. "Cautious my foot. You were plotting your own comfort."
Her father chuckled, shaking his head. "Exactly why she married you."
Dinner was a lively mix of teasing, laughter, and the occasional sigh from Xinyi at her father's dramatic commentary. Zhiyuan remained composed outwardly, but every now and then, his fingers brushed hers across the table. Small touches, deliberate and private, that made Xinyi's chest flutter despite herself.
Later, as dessert was served, Xinyi's mother leaned in, voice softening. "You two... sometimes I forget you're married. You still act like young lovers sneaking moments in between work."
Zhiyuan's gaze flicked to Xinyi, catching the faint curve of her lips as she smiled knowingly. "Perhaps," he murmured, "some habits are worth keeping."
Xinyi's mother laughed quietly. "Just don't give your father another reason to lecture you about propriety."
Zhiyuan's hand found Xinyi's again under the table. She didn't pull away, resting her hand lightly against his. The rest of the room carried on, but for a brief, perfect moment, it was only the two of them—years of shared life, quiet intimacy, and a love that felt comfortable, teasing, and unshakably theirs.