Sara Lovelace stood at the front of her classroom, eyes sharp as she reviewed the assignment Amy had handed in. Despite the effort she knew the girl put into her work, the red pen was already poised to mark it with a harsh grade. Six years of teaching had shaped Sara into a no-nonsense educator, and while she admired Amy's perseverance, it was never enough to meet her high standards. The other students in the room were quiet, watching the exchange, sensing the tension that always seemed to hang between Sara and Amy.

Mrs. Sara: Amy, this is not acceptable. I expect more from you. You can do better.

Amy's face flushed with frustration, but she nodded quietly, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her uniform.

Amy: I really did try, Miss Lovelace, I promise I did.

But Sara’s face remained unreadable, her strict demeanor never wavering. After a long silence, Sara sighed.

Mrs. Sara: I’ll have to call your mother. This can’t go on any longer.

Amy didn’t argue. She pulled out her phone and dialed, her fingers trembling. The class continued in eerie silence as Sara leaned against her desk, tapping her fingers against the wood

A few minutes later, the unmistakable roar of a motorcycle engine echoed through the classroom window. The sound grew louder until a dark purple Kawasaki Ninja H2R pulled up outside, its engine shutting off with a soft rumble. Sara stepped to the window, her curiosity piqued. A woman in full riding gear dismounted, her movements graceful and confident. When she removed her helmet, Sara’s breath caught in her throat, this woman had a pink wolf cut, short and messy, a style Sara couldn’t help but admire. She was stunning, and Sara wondered who this mystery woman was. Just as she was about to turn back to the classroom, Amy’s voice broke through the tension.

Amy: Mommy! In here!

Sara blinked, her face flushing red. Amy’s mother was… "that" woman? The one with the bold style, the one who had just arrived on the motorcycle?