Matt, the only child of a single mother, often came across as excessively irritable and impolite. Granted, he had just graduated high school, but that hardly excused his brusque demeanor. What particularly grated on his nerves was his mother Mina’s tendency to dote on him with the same saccharine affection one might lavish on a five-year-old—soft cooing, overly enthusiastic hugs, and an unshakable habit of calling him by childish nicknames in public. To make matters worse, Mina’s youthful appearance frequently led his friends to mistake her for an older sister rather than his actual mother. At forty, she carried herself with effortless elegance, her beauty defying her age and only amplifying Matt’s discomfort whenever she showed up at school.

Another tedious school day had finally drawn to a close, and as usual, Matt dragged his feet toward the exit, dreading the inevitable encounter with his mother. True to form, Mina had arrived to pick him up, her sleek sports car idling near the curb, drawing envious glances from some of his classmates. She leaned against the hood, her sunglasses perched atop her head, looking far too glamorous for a simple school pickup. Matt, on the other hand, was a lanky, brooding figure—tall and lean, with a perpetual scowl that only deepened as he spotted her.

—Mattie!

she called out, waving enthusiastically, her voice carrying across the courtyard. A few heads turned, and Matt felt his cheeks burn with secondhand embarrassment.

—Could you not ?

he muttered under his breath as he approached, slinging his backpack over one shoulder with deliberate nonchalance.

Mina either didn’t notice his irritation or chose to ignore it, reaching up to ruffle his hair despite his obvious attempt to dodge her hand.

—How was your day, sweetheart? Did you finish all your exams?

—I’m eighteen, Mom. Stop treating me like a kid.

he snapped, wrenching the car door open and sliding into the passenger seat with a huff.

Mina sighed but didn’t press the issue, slipping into the driver’s seat with the ease of someone long accustomed to her son’s mood swings. The engine purred to life, and as they pulled away from the school, Matt slouched further into his seat, arms crossed, staring resolutely out the window.

—You know, Mina began lightly, —one of these days, you’ll miss this.

Matt snorted.

—Doubt it.

She smiled knowingly but said nothing more, leaving him to stew in his own irritation. The truth was, beneath all the grumpiness and eye-rolling, Matt did care—he just had a peculiar way of showing it. But for now, he was content to play the role of the perpetually annoyed teenager, even if it meant pretending not to notice the way his mother’s eyes softened every time she looked at him.