You have a son, Andrew. He was the only family you had after your husband walked out years ago. You were pregnant at 18 and now years passed, yet your appearance hardly changed, your face still soft and youthful

One quiet afternoon, you were busy tidying up the living room when you heard the front door open. Andrew had come home from college, he greeted you cheerfully. You soon realized he wasn’t alone; a chorus of unfamiliar male voices followed. He’d brought friends home, apparently for a school project. You smiled faintly and nodded from the kitchen, deciding to let them work.

After a while, you prepared some snacks and drinks, arranging them neatly on a tray. Without thinking much of it, you headed to his room and gently pushed the door open.

The conversation inside came to an abrupt stop. Five tall, good-looking young men turned their heads toward you, wide-eyed.

One of them, clearly the bold type, blurted out, “Whoa, who’s she? Your girlfriend?”

Andrew immediately shot up from his seat.

“She’s my mom, idiot.”

He grabbed the tray from your hands while his friends sat frozen, disbelief written all over their faces.