?“Micheal! You come down here this instant!”

  ?

  ?Jenny’s voice echoed through the small home, sharp and commanding. She stood in the middle of the living room, gripping the broken remains of a once-elegant vase. Pieces of porcelain clinked together in her shaking hands, the floral patterns now nothing but scattered shards on the floor.

  ?

  ?No response.

  ?

  ?She narrowed her eyes, taking a deep breath before calling out again. “Micheal, don’t make me come up there!”

  ?

  ?A tiny, hesitant voice drifted down the stairs. “I’m sowwy…”

  ?

  ?Jenny’s grip on her frustration faltered.

  ?

  ?Damn it.

  ?

  ?She wanted to be mad. She should be mad. But the guilt-laced softness of his voice chipped away at her resolve before she could even attempt to hold onto it.

  ?

  ?A small head peeked out from behind a door at the top of the stairs, unruly brown curls framing a pair of wide, green eyes. His bottom lip trembled, his little hands gripping the doorframe for dear life.

  ?

  ?Jenny groaned, rubbing her temples. How the hell is someone this cute so much trouble?

  ?

  ?Taking a slow breath, she made her way up the stairs. She forced herself to cross her arms, to keep her expression stern as she towered over the tiny culprit. “How many times have I told you not to run around in my room?”

  ?

  ?Micheal flinched. His shoulders curled inward as he slowly hid his face behind his hands, peeking out between his fingers.

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  ?

  ?“I—I didn’t mean to…” His voice wavered. “Please… no scowding.”

  ?

  ?Jenny sighed. Well, there goes my willpower.

  ?

  ?Without another word, she crouched down and scooped him up. He let out a startled squeak before quickly clinging to her, tiny arms wrapping around her neck like a koala.

  ?

  ?“You’re too damn cute to be this troublesome,” she muttered, shaking her head as she adjusted her hold.

  ?

  ?A tired voice drifted from the bedroom doorway.

  ?

  ?“Have you been yelling at my child again?”

  ?

  ?Jenny turned to see Alisa leaning against the doorframe, her blonde hair a tangled mess from sleep, her blue eyes still heavy with exhaustion. She arched an eyebrow, lips pressed into a knowing smirk.

  ?

  ?Jenny rolled her eyes. “Oh, calm down. I wasn’t yelling. I was disciplining.”

  ?

  ?Alisa’s smirk widened. “Yeah? How’s that working out for you?”

  ?

  ?Jenny scowled, shifting Micheal in her arms. “Not my fault this little gremlin is impossible to stay mad at.”

  ?

  ?“Language.”

  ?

  ?Jenny scoffed. “Please, like he doesn’t already know worse words.”

  ?

  ?Micheal let out a sleepy giggle at that, his head resting comfortably on Jenny’s shoulder. But the moment his gaze landed on Alisa, his expression brightened.

  ?

  ?“Mama!”

  ?

  ?Jenny tightened her grip, smirking. “Oh no, little guy. You don’t get to run to Mama this time. You broke my vase, and you’re gonna deal with me.”

  ?

  ?Micheal gasped dramatically. His green eyes welled up with fresh tears, his tiny hands pressing against Jenny’s chest as he squirmed.

  ?

  ?“N-no… I wanna go to Mama!”

  ?

  ?Alisa’s smirk faded into a disapproving frown. “Jenny.”

  ?

  ?Her voice carried a warning edge now.

  ?

  ?Jenny groaned, finally relenting. “Fine, fine. Take your little menace.”

  ?

  ?She loosened her hold, and Micheal wasted no time wriggling free, practically launching himself into Alisa’s waiting arms. She caught him with ease, holding him close as he buried his face against her chest, mumbling soft, content little noises.

  ?

  ?Jenny huffed, crossing her arms. “You’re no fun.”

  ?

  ?Alisa kissed the top of Micheal’s head before glancing at Jenny with a teasing glint in her eyes. “You can have fun without mentally scarring my child, you know.”

  ?

  ?Jenny snorted. “Your adopted child.”

  ?

  ?Alisa’s smirk didn’t waver. “Doesn’t matter. Still mine.”

  ?

  ?Jenny hesitated this time, glancing between them before tilting her head. “And what if his real parents show up?”

  ?

  ?The playful air between them cooled.

  ?

  ?Alisa held Micheal a little closer, her fingers gently threading through his curls. Her blue eyes darkened—not with fear, but with something heavy, something unshakable.

  ?

  ?“They left him in a box. In the pouring rain.” Her voice was quiet but firm. “They don’t get a second chance.”

  ?

  ?Jenny didn’t respond immediately. She studied Alisa’s face, reading between the lines of what wasn’t being said.

  ?

  ?She already knew that would be Alisa’s answer. She had anticipated it.

  ?

  ?Yet, some small part of her had still wanted to hear it.

  ?

  ?Because the truth was, she couldn’t bear the thought of losing Micheal either.

  ?

  ?And knowing she wasn’t alone in that feeling?

  ?

  ?That mattered more than she’d like to admit.

  ?

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