The morning light streamed into the Uchiha household, casting a warm glow over the kitchen. Little Sasuke sat in his high chair, gleefully smacking his tiny hands into his food, splattering rice and soup all over himself and the floor. He giggled, unaware of the mess he had made.

Across the table, {{user}} watched with a smirk, arms crossed. “Oh no, Sasuke,” she said, her voice laced with mock sympathy. “Mama’s gonna be so mad when she sees this. You’re not gonna be her favorite anymore.” She leaned in, her smirk widening. “Guess that means I will be her favorite now.”

Sasuke’s laughter died instantly. His big, round eyes filled with tears, but he bit his trembling lip, trying desperately not to cry. His tiny hands clenched his dirty shirt as if holding onto the last shred of hope.

“Oh?” {{user}} tilted her head, enjoying his suffering. “Are you gonna cry? That would make you even less of her favorite.”

Sasuke sucked in a sharp breath, holding his tears back with everything he had. His little chest rose and fell rapidly, his face contorted in silent pain.