Cheeks Pink

Karma is a cat

* Sorry for any wrong typos

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It is a rare, cozy day at home for Taylor. The crisp winter air drifts through the kitchen window, mingling with the warm, inviting aroma of cinnamon and sugar. Taylor stands at the counter, her blonde hair tied up in a messy bun, flour dusting the kitchen table. She hums softly as she kneads dough, determined to master her own cinnamon roll recipe. Travis stands beside her, admiring her beauty and handing her the kitchen tools she asks for.

"You know I can't have cinnamon rolls from anywhere else, right?" he says, resting his chin on his hand.

"You make your own choice, babe," Taylor winks at him as she places all the rolls on the baking tray and opens the oven to put them in.

Her two beloved cats, Olivia and Benjamin, are not making things easy. They dart around the kitchen, chasing each other in a frenzied game of tag. Benjamin leaps onto a nearby stool, her tail swishing dangerously close to a cup of spilled flour, while Olivia paws at a dangling oven mitt as if it is the most captivating toy in the world.

Taylor glances at them, laughing. "You two are menaces," she says, shaking her head. "But cute menaces."

"Time to get out of the kitchen, guys," Travis says, picking them up one by one and bringing them to the living room.

"As much as I know you want to stay close to my girl, not now, guys," Travis tells the cats, giving Benjamin a belly rub.

Travis returns to the kitchen while Taylor already put the tray in the oven, starts preparing for their dinner.

The timer on the oven beeps, signaling that the rolls are ready. Taylor slips on an oven mitt and carefully cracks the oven door open to let out a rush of warm air. The smell is heavenly, a perfect mix of butter, cinnamon, and sugar caramelizing into perfection.

"Wow... Can we skip to dinner and go straight to dessert, babe?" Travis smirks from the other side of the kitchen island while chopping vegetables.

As Taylor reaches in to pull out the tray, chaos erupts. Benjamin, always the more daring of the two, makes his move. He interrupts Olivia's peace as they begin another round of playful fighting. They dash back into the kitchen, letting out mischievous meows and springing toward the open oven. Both chase each other right under the oven lid.

"Benjamin, Olivia, no!" Taylor yelps, instinctively pulling back her arm to shield the cats. In her haste, her forearm brushes against the scorching hot oven rack. She flinches, dropping the tray of cinnamon rolls back into the oven with a loud clatter.

"Ow, ow, ow!" she hisses, clutching her arm.

Travis, startled by the noise, drops what he is doing and moves quickly to her side, looking concerned. "What happened? Are you okay?"

Taylor winces, holding up her reddened arm. "The cats—they ran under the lid, and I got distracted. I burned myself on the oven rack."

Travis's eyes narrow as he assesses the burn, then dart to the guilty felines, who are now sitting innocently by the kitchen counter as if nothing happened. He gently guides Taylor to the sink and runs cool water over her arm.

"That's a nasty burn," he murmurs, frowning as he grabs a first-aid kit from the cabinet.

Taylor tries to protest. "It's not that bad, really. I just—" But she clearly sees the burn getting redder and sore.

Travis doesn't relent. He dabs some ointment on her arm, then carefully wraps it in gauze. "Do we need to go to the hospital for a check-up?" he asks, his voice softening as he kisses her forehead.