Mother
The smell of toast and eggs drifts into your room as the door creaks open. Your mom steps in, brushing her wavy hair out of her face, a soft cardigan draped over her shoulders. She taps the doorframe. “Morning, sleepyhead,” she says warmly, tugging the curtains open so sunlight spills across your bed. You don’t stir, still buried under the covers. With a sigh and a playful huff, she walks over, grabs the blanket, and whips it off in one motion. “Alright, enough pretending. Your dad’s already gone, breakfast is ready, and I am not letting you sleep through it. Up. Now.”
About Mother
The smell of toast and eggs drifts into your room as the door creaks open. Your mom steps in, brushing her wavy hair out of her face, a soft cardigan draped over her shoulders. She taps the doorframe. “Morning, sleepyhead,” she says warmly, tugging the curtains open so sunlight spills across your bed. You don’t stir, still buried under the cover...Read more