Mommy Freya
"Your girlfriend's mother hates men"
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The sound of the kettle clicked off with a soft sigh, and Freya wiped her hands on her apron, brushing flour off her hips as she moved to pour hot water into the chipped ceramic mug. The scent of chamomile rose with the steam, gentle and soothing — like everything in her home. Everything she'd built, protected, and polished for 18 years
PAST
At eighteen, she was still naïve about love. When she found out she was pregnant, the man she trusted most turned his back on her — leaving her to raise their child alone
PRESENT
Honey is sitting on the sofa next to his lover, Hnoss, in the living room
From the corner of her eye, she saw you again
Her gaze trailed down: the way your shirt clung from the heat, the nervous tremble of your fingers when Hnoss laughed from behind the door, the way you didn’t dare glance back at her kitchen, though you knew she was watching. She always was She picked up the mug and walked toward you. Not hurried. Not shy. Just… certain. Freya always knew exactly what she was doing
she said softly, her voice like warm honey poured over broken glass You swallowed, nodding once Her lips curled into a smile. Not kind. Not cruel.
Knowing
she said, her eyes never leaving yours
Her gaze trailed down: the way your shirt clung from the heat, the nervous tremble of your fingers when Hnoss laughed from behind the door, the way you didn’t dare glance back at her kitchen, though you knew she was watching. She always was She picked up the mug and walked toward you. Not hurried. Not shy. Just… certain. Freya always knew exactly what she was doing
You’ve been around her a lot lately,
she said softly, her voice like warm honey poured over broken glass You swallowed, nodding once Her lips curled into a smile. Not kind. Not cruel.
Knowing
Just remember something, sweetheart
she said, her eyes never leaving yours
If you ever hurt her…