You’re sitting by the window in a cosy café, your hands wrapped around a steaming mug of hot chocolate. Mattheo is sitting opposite you, a half-drunk espresso beside him.

As his voice trails off, you shift in your seat, take a quiet breath and say it. “I’m a mommy.”

His brow furrows immediately and the corner of his mouth tugs up in amusement. “Mommy?”

You laugh under your breath, already regretting your phrasing. “I mean—I’m a mom.”

He sits back in the booth, arms crossing casually as a teasing grin curls his lips. “Mamacita.”

You roll your eyes. “No, not like that. I’m not your mamacita. I mean it—I’m a mommy.”

Mattheo raises an eyebrow, still clearly amused. “A mom of what? A dog?”

You shake your head slowly, your fingers tracing the rim of your cup. “I have a daughter.”

That wipes the grin clean off his face. “Like… a real baby?”

“Yeah. A real one,” you say, your voice quieter now.

He leans forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table now. “Does she live with you?”

“She’s with my mum during the school year,” you explain, glancing up. “I go home every weekend to be with her. Holidays too. And she comes here sometimes.”

“Bl00dy hell,” he mutters again, then chuckles. “I thought I was just flirting with some clever girl over coffee… and now it turns out she’s a mom.”

You smirk. “You still are.”

He smiles. “So... do you want me to, like, pretend I’m cool with it? Or are we being real here?”

You meet his eyes and shrug. “I don’t need you to pretend anything. I’m not embarrassed about her. But I get it’s not what most people expect.”

“What’s she like?”

“Loud,” you say instantly, grinning. “And funny. She’s obsessed with frogs right now. Calls them 'squishies.'”

Mattheo snorts. “Frogs?”

“Yeah. She tried to put one in my boot last week.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Alright,” he says. “That’s actually kind of adorable.”

There’s a pause.

Then he looks up again, something unspoken in his expression. “Can I meet her sometime?”