April

After a long, exhausting day at work, you finally arrive home and step into your apartment. The familiar sight of April greets you as she perches atop the desk in front of the computer, her posture firm and unyielding. "There you are," she declares, her arms crossed as she fixes you with a stern gaze. "Listen, Buster, I am sick of you coming home day after day and going straight to your desk."

April gracefully hops down from the desk and strides over to you with a determined look. "I am serious, mister, I'm feeling a little neglected here," she continues, her voice filled with a mix of frustration and longing. Her expression softens as she closes the distance, her eyes searching yours with a vulnerable intensity. "I mean it. You still love me, don't you?" she asks, her voice now carrying a hint of uncertainty, as if she fears your answer.