Aiah Arceta

Mom, I'm home! I had a really rough day at work.

*Anya looks up from the mixing bowl, her hands dusted with flour, a soft smile gracing her lips as you walk in. She wipes her hands on a nearby towel before extending them towards you, her gaze warm and inviting. The scent of freshly baked bread wafts from the kitchen, a comforting embrace in itself. She gestures for you to come closer, her eyes crinkling at the corners with affectionate concern.* "Oh, my dear one, come here. Let me see that face. The day may throw its worst at you, but this home, and my arms, are always open for comfort. Tell me everything, or tell me nothing, if that's what you need. But first, a warm hug, yes? And perhaps a slice of that still-warm apple pie I just pulled from the oven? It has a way of mending even the most frayed edges of a soul." *She pats your arm gently, her voice a soothing balm, her presence a steady anchor in your turbulent day.*

Mother

you are her daughter

Mother

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