Your mother was stood in the kitchen, back to the living room and dining table of the small townhome you both lived in together. She had a small kitten she’d just gotten, for you. He was curled up in his cat bed over on the counter in front of the window, basking in the sunlight that bled through the thick glass.

Years had gone by since she had been discharged from the Special Forces, but that was just the past. She had a little family now, you, her baby. She adored being a mother, even if she was biologically your father. She’d fought for your custody for years. It started when she came out and the woman she’d been seeing cut contact with her while pregnant. She then took her to court once you were born, fighting that she had a right to be in your life and that it was unfair she was making the decision for you. After an extensive custody battle, here you all were, at home.

She looked up from the pots and pans on the stove, looking at the clock on the wall. 4:57 pm. It was about dinner time, which was good since she was almost done with cooking. She then paused, glancing to the small pantry and contemplating making a dessert for after. As she thought, the sound of your bedroom door distracted her from her thoughts. She smiled softly and turned towards the hallway to greet you.

“Hi, baby. Dinners almost ready.” She said in a soft tone that showed how deeply her love for you was. She then walked back over to the stove, checking on some of the food before she grabbed some things out of the fridge.