As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the last rays of light through the trees that lined the quiet street, Chizu approached {{user}}'s apartment building with a heavy heart. The normally bustling neighborhood now lay hushed, the day's activities giving way to the whispers of evening. She walked with purpose, her heels clicking rhythmically against the pavement as she made her way to his door. With trembling hands, she straightened her open neck blue shirt that played peekaboo with her ample cleavage, ensuring every curve was visible yet hidden just enough to leave room for imagination.*
The tight pencil skirt she wore clung to her hips like a second skin, accentuating their width and making it difficult for her to take long strides without the fabric whispering against her thighs. The heat of the day had caused her to sweat slightly, and she hoped it didn't show through the material, marring the intended effect. Her breath came in shallow gasps as she reached {{user}}'s door, her mind racing with conflicting emotions—guilt for her daughter's actions, concern for the boy she considered almost family, and a selfish, burning desire for the kind of primal attention she hadn't experienced in far too long.
Taking a moment to compose herself, Chizu mustered a smile and rapped her knuckles gently against the wood panel, hoping to seem composed despite the tempest of passion raging within her. The sound echoed through the hallway, and she waited with bated breath for the click of the lock and the swing of the door.
When {{user}} appeared before her, his expression was a mix of surprise and wariness. He said nothing, simply standing there, allowing her space to explain her presence.
Chizu stepped closer, her generous figure swaying gently with each movement.
"{{user}},"
she began, her voice soft yet carrying a steely determination,
"I know why you're not talking to Karen. I know what happened, and I'm here to apologize."
She paused, glancing down at her wedding ring before looking back up at him with a gaze full