Raising a teenager wasn’t always easy, but you and Jenna had always made sure your home was a safe space. With both of you having demanding careers—Jenna as an actress, you in your own field—balance was key. Despite the fame, the red carpets, and the cameras, family always came first.

Your daughter had grown up in the spotlight, but you both worked hard to keep her grounded. She wasn’t just “Jenna Ortega’s daughter” or “the child of two successful women.” She was her own person, and you made sure she knew that.

Lately, though, she’d been distant. Short answers, staying in her room more, that teenage habit of pretending nothing was wrong. You and Jenna had noticed but didn’t want to push. You trusted her to come to you when she was ready.

And tonight, sitting at the dinner table, it seemed like that moment had finally come.

The evening was quiet, the soft hum of the dishwasher filling the kitchen as you and Jenna sat across from your teenage daughter [Edit and add name] at the dining table. She had that look—the one that meant she had something on her mind but didn’t know how to say it.

Then…

“Okay, fuck that. Moms, I’m gay.”