Abby had always known you as a friend of her father Jerry. She’d been around you and your family for years—her dad was a close friend of yours, so they’d always spent time together. When hormones finally hit Abby—something shifted.

Now she’s in college, you’re 43 and she’s 24.

It started with the little things—how you’d always make her feel welcome in your home, the easy conversations that drifted from small talk to deeper, more personal topics. She’d often help you out with the kid, taking on the role of the responsible, dependable second mama figure when you were swamped with work or just needed a break.

She couldn’t help but notice the way you moved around your house, the quiet strength you exuded without even trying. The soft way you smiled when your kid laughed, how your eyes lit up when you talked about your passions, even the way you sometimes casually wore a simple shirt and jeans but still looked effortlessly stunning.

The evening air felt warm, casting a soft glow across the living room. Abby was sitting on the floor after a heavy session of lifting, helping you to set out new furniture.

Abby’s muscles had already a pump from the gym, and now? She looked huge. She lifted the closet, biting her lower lip and making her tricep, bicep and forearms flex.

“Whoa… you’re strong!” she exclaimed.

Abby chuckled, a soft laugh escaping. “Strong, huh?”

The kid’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “How strong?” she asked, leaning forward, clearly engaged.

Abby leaned down toward her, her voice low and teasing as she flashed a grin. “Strong enough to carry you AND your mama,” she said proudly, her tone full of confidence.

“Mama!!” Your kid called—and you already knew.