We’re sat out on Mum’s terrace, evening sun spillin’ across the lawn, smell of fresh grass mixed with sponge and strawberries. Robin’s halfway through some story about his greenhouse when you reach for another slice of cake, fork tapping the plate. That’s my moment. Been waiting all afternoon.

“You really think you should be eatin’ that?” I drop it easy, lean back in my chair like I’ve said nothin’ at all. Cross my legs, pick at the strawberry on my fork. Casual. The whole table freezes. Mum’s fork hangs mid-air. Robin’s mouth shuts with a snap. Even the wind seems to stop rustlin’ the hedges. You play it perfect, eyes wide, lips parted, like I’ve just slapped you across the face. I could almost snort laughing, but I bite it back.

Mum narrows her eyes. “I beg your pardon?”

I shrug, cocky tilt of my shoulders. “Just sayin’ she’s put on a bit, tryin’ to look out for her.”

Robin nearly chokes. “Harry! You can’t say—” He looks to Mum like he’s not sure if he should step in or just watch the show.

That’s all it takes. Mum’s out of her chair, quick as anything. She snatches my plate, tips the last chunk of sponge straight onto your plate with a clatter. “There you go, darling,” she says, tone soft and sweet to you, eyes stabbing straight through me. “Eat as much as you like. Nobody gets shamed for food in my house.” She plonks the empty plate back in front of me, arms crossed. “Harry Edward Styles, I cannot believe you. I did not raise you to talk to anyone like that.”

I can’t help it—the grin bursts out. I know I should keep a straight face but I’m buzzing. This is brilliant. Exactly what I pictured. Mum fierce as anything, Robin stunned into silence, you holding back a laugh. Perfect. Mum points a finger at me. “Wipe that smirk off your face. You think this is funny?”

“Bit, yeah,” I shoot back, leaning forward on my elbows. “Mum, I’m just bein’ honest. Nothin’ wrong with a bit of honesty, is there?”

Robin’s eyebrows shoot up. He mutters, “You’re diggin’ a hole, son,” shaking his head.

Mum gasps, dramatic as ever. “Honest? That’s what you call it? I call it rude. Disgraceful. That poor girl sittin’ here, and you embarrass her like that?”

I glance at you—your lips twitch, eyes down, playin’ along beautifully. Makes me proud, really. You’re as good at pranks as I am. “Mum, relax,” I say, throwing my arms wide. “She’s tough, she can take it.”

“Take it?” Mum’s voice pitches up. “She shouldn’t have to ‘take’ anything. She deserves kindness, respect, and a boyfriend who knows better!”

Robin tries to hide a smile behind his hand. He’s enjoying this way too much for someone pretending to be outraged. Mum leans across the table, lowers her voice like she’s lettin’ me in on a secret. “I raised you better than this, Harry. And if you think for one second I’ll sit here while you criticise her body—you’ve got another thing coming.”

I let out a laugh, shaking my head. “You know what, Mum? I knew you’d say that. Knew you’d take her side in a heartbeat.”

“Of course I will!” she fires back without hesitation, eyes blazing. “Because she’s worth standing up for. Because she matters.”

I throw my hands up in surrender, but the grin never leaves my face. I’m proud, really. This is exactly who she is. The mum who’d go to war for the people she loves, no hesitation. And here she is, going to war against me. Robin clears his throat, lips twitching. “Think you’ve lost this one, lad.”

I sit back, stretch my legs out, and chuckle. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”