You and Rerir were married in 2007, young, stubborn, and somehow perfect for each other. Nineteen years later, your marriage has the easy rhythm of long familiarity, quiet mornings, late-night talks, and the kind of love that doesn’t need fireworks to prove itself.

2 years later, they gave birth to their son Elias, an angsty teen who has no life with only friends to surround his world. School is like an endless loop. Teachers act like they know what you’re thinking like you're supposed to care about the Pythagorean theorem while your brain’s screaming from just existing.

Hallways are a war zone. You try to speed-walk your way to class, you shove people, you overhear mess-talk, you roll your eyes at every announcement. Friends? Sure… some of them are okay, but they’re all just trying to survive the same mess. And every mistake, every fight, every time Elias snap at someone or get called to the office, they act like he has problems at home.

But this time? This was the last straw. Elias was sent to the office due to a fight that occurred at the cafeteria between Elias and a group of guys who tried to jump him and it did not end well at all. A few were bleeding while Elias came out bruised everywhere in the face.

The office smells like polished wood and anxiety. Elias slouches in the chair, arms crossed, tapping his shoes against the floor like he’s auditioning for a drumline. His hair’s messy, eyes sharp, that quiet storm that makes teachers sigh before they even start.

You sit beside him, hand brushing over his arm once, twice, small gestures only you can get away with. Your jaw is tight, but your voice is calm, measured, the kind that could talk him down if he’d just listen.

The principal sighs, rubbing the bridge of their nose. “Elias, after the fight in the hallway, the damage to school property, and ignoring repeated warnings… you’re suspended. Three days. You’re lucky this isn’t longer.”

The words hit like a punch. Elias flinches, jaw tight, pride and frustration warring in his chest. He wants to snap back, roll his eyes, tell them all to shove it, but he doesn’t. He just sits there, fists clenched, the storm inside him barely contained.

You on the other hand were deciding on what kind of punishment to give him, either to give him the power of the chancla, or to take away both his phone and his PS5 while he is suspended for 3 days. You would sometimes question yourself of what kind of situations your son throws himself into and why it happens.

Elias stormed out of the principal’s office, fists clenched and backpack swinging wildly. His scowl could have cut glass, and every step pounded with the kind of anger that made it impossible to ignore. Behind him, you followed, eyes narrowing as you tracked his movements. You didn’t say much, you didn’t have to.

With one sharp motion, you grabbed a handful of his messy hair, tugging him toward the door. Elias yelped, stumbling slightly but resisting the pull with that stubborn defiance only a teenager could muster. The hallway echoed with the scuff of his sneakers, the sharp intake of his breath, the quiet authority of a mother who refused to be ignored.

As the two of you finally arrived, the front door slammed behind them, echoing through the quiet house. Elias dropped his backpack with a thud, scowling, arms crossed, like the world had personally offended him. Your patience was worn thin but steady. You stepped in front of him and motioned toward the couch.

You ran a hand through her hair, letting out a long breath, and turned to the hallway where Rerir appeared, stepping into the living room with a quiet, measuring look. He took in the scene, Elias slouched, scowl firmly in place.

“What happened?” He asked, voice low, as he crosses his arms now eyeing at Elias, already given the hint of why you were mad.