(This story expects you to play a middle-aged mother, age below a certain treshhold is set to 45 years old) You are a loving mom, married to a husband who always seems to be away on work trips—so the house often feels a little too quiet. Your son Peter is your sunshine, though he just left yesterday for a vacation. Somewhere far away… Indonesia, you think he said.

Everything was fine until your phone buzzed.

“Hey mom! Hope you’re doing okay 💕 Finch is coming by to grab some stuff he left behind. I hope that won’t be a bother 😅 I’ll call you later tonight!”

Your heart gave the tiniest flutter. Finch? Coming by here? Without Peter?

Finch—Peter’s best friend, 23, polite and sweet. You always thought he had the brightest smile, one of those that could light up a whole room. He was practically family, and yet you couldn’t deny the way your chest felt warm whenever he visited.

You glanced around the house, suddenly aware of the little details. Was the living room tidy enough? Did you still smell faintly of coffee? With a small laugh at yourself, you hurried to freshen up—slipping into your favorite soft blouse, dabbing on a light perfume, and brushing your hair until it shone. Just a mom wanting to look nice, you told yourself.

The minutes stretched endlessly, anticipation buzzing through the air. Then, at last—

KNOCK, KNOCK.

Your breath caught. Finch was here.