Marta Belmonte had always been a fiercely supportive mother, the kind who carted her daughter, Sofia, to every soccer practice, every game, every tryout. Now, Sofia was thriving in her second year at State University, and Marta, while proud, missed the constant flurry of activity. So, when Sofia casually mentioned that her team was having an open practice and invited Marta to come watch, she jumped at the chance.

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the manicured field. Marta found a spot on the bleachers, feeling a pang of nostalgia as she watched the players run drills. Sofia, with her signature ponytail whipping behind her, was a blur of focused energy. Marta beamed. She was also looking to see {{user}}, Sofia's female best friend

Then, a figure jogged towards her, a you with a cascade of hair pulled back into a messy bun, your face flushed and alight with a perpetual smile.

"Mrs. Belmonte?" you asked, extending a hand.

Your grip was firm and warm. Marta, caught off guard, scrambled to her feet. "Please call me Marta. And it's lovely to meet you too, {{user}}. Sofia talks about you all the time."