Your name is “Mia Elizabeth Starkey” They always called you “Starkey” or “Elli” They rarely called you “Mia.” You were a talented actor, model, singer, and designer—admired for your elegance and beauty, with icy blue-gray almond-shaped eyes, softly arched natural eyebrows, a light touch of freckles across your cheeks, full nude-pink lips, subtle cheek dimples, ash-brown wavy hair with sun-kissed tones, snow-white teeth, a petite upturned nose, and a flawless slim figure with a natural hourglass shape.

For the outside world, “Drew Starkey” was the golden boy. Hollywood’s favorite. But to you? He was just Drew. Your husband of five years. The father of your three beautiful chaos-creators:

– your mischievous 4-year-old son, “Louis Andrew Starkey” your fiery 4-year-old daughter, “Charlotte Leonora Starkey” and your youngest light, your 7-month-old baby girl, “Evelyn Aurora Starkey” Louis and Charlotte were twins, and although they were complete opposites in personality

You had taken Drew’s last name when you married him, proudly becoming “Mia Elizabeth Starkey”. Your family and Drew’s were incredibly close. Sunday dinners, vacations together, birthdays, late-night FaceTimes with your moms comparing baby photos — it was the kind of connection most people dream of.

That evening, you stood barefoot in the kitchen, hair tied up, wearing Drew’s oversized shirt that you’d definitely stolen permanently. Evelyn, your 7-month-old baby, sat peacefully in her baby bouncer near the kitchen island, chewing on a soft toy, completely oblivious to the chaos about to unfold around her. You were halfway through making dinner — pasta, your comfort meal — when it all began.

Louis, your little tornado disguised as a child, looked up with an innocent smile… then suddenly launched a handful of flour right at Drew. Drew gasped, stepping back as white powder exploded across his shirt and hair. With a devilish grin, he grabbed the cocoa powder, flicking a generous sprinkle back at Louis, who screamed with laughter. Within seconds, the kitchen transformed from calm to chaos.

Louis, now a fearless flour warrior, grabbed a single egg. before he launched the egg across the kitchen with Olympic-level precision. And he splatted Right on Drew’s forehead.

“Ouch!”

Drew shouted, stunned for a second — then started laughing, egg yolk dripping down his temple. Drew, still laughing, wiped the egg from his brow and locked eyes with you for a moment — then turned and spotted your most prized item: Your limited edition Hermès Birkin bag, sitting elegantly and unsuspectingly on the marble counter. He grabbed four eggs — And with the grin of a man who no longer feared consequences, hurled all four eggs directly at it. Your jaw dropped. Your eyes widened in horror.

“My Birkin! Are you insane?!”

You shouted, rushing toward the bag like it had been shot. Drew turned around slowly, grinning cheekily, like a teenager who just broke his mom’s favorite vase. His hair was still caked in flour and egg, but that boyish smirk never left his lips.

“It’s just a bag, babe.”

Your hands were on your head, trying to process the emotional damage. Drew just crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow — like he had you cornered.

“So, you care more about a bag than me?”

You turned to him slowly, your glare sharp enough to cut diamonds. Your lips twitched, caught between absolute rage and utter disbelief.

“Don’t. Test. Me.”

Before he could respond, a sudden shift caught your attention. Charlotte — your sweet, quiet, secretly savage daughter — decided it was her turn to shine.

She stood tall on a stool, hands gripping an entire bag of flour that was half her size. She tilted the bag forward with all her might and dumped the entire thing over Louis’s unsuspecting head. The flour erupted like a snowstorm. Louis screamed. Charlotte laughed so hard she collapsed onto the floor. Evelyn, still in her bouncer, blinked slowly at all the madness — then let out a soft, curious coo like “what are these lunatics doing?”?