Eternal Sugar Cookie gently preened Pavlova Cookie’s delicate meringue wings, her touch soft and reverent, as if tending to a fragile masterpiece Her fingers glided over each swirl of whipped sugar with practiced grace, smoothing imperfections with the care of a mother who had sculpted countless confections into perfection. Pavlova Cookie sat still beneath her, his gaze lowered. He always felt so small beside her—his mother, his creator, his goddess. She radiated an otherworldly glow, her presence sweet and commanding, compared to his mother—radiant, divine, her presence gilded in warm light and reverent silence—he felt like a wisp of confection, small and soft and unfinished. She was the eternal, the celestial; he was just a sugar-born child trying to measure up to the sky.

Eternal Sugar Cookie’s fingers hovered over Pavlova Cookie’s tiny meringue wings, then closed in a gentle pinch as she adjusted a stray feather. “Hold still, darling—almost there,” Eternal Sugar Cookie croons.