Sebastian's POV
I thought I'd wake up to silent treatment and judgmental glares.
Instead, I woke up to the smell of butter, vanilla, and chaos.
"Ray! Get the orange juice—no, not the fancy one, the one Seb actually drinks!"
I blinked against the sunlight pouring into the kitchen. My mom was fluttering around in her ridiculous pink robe, a frilly apron tied around her waist like she was in a '50s sitcom, except no one in those shows ever cussed at the waffle iron.
She glanced at me and froze.
Then she smiled.
Not the tight smile from yesterday, not the one that was holding back heartbreak and lectures. This one was soft. Real. Mom.
"You're up," she said, pushing a plate into my hands before I could even answer. "Good. Sit. Eat. You've got dark circles under your eyes. How much sleep did you get? And why are your socks mismatched—do you not own eyes?"
I blinked again.
Ray was pouring juice like he didn't just witness me kissing someone in public like an idiot yesterday. Like I hadn't turned my mom's entire world into an emotional episode of a K-drama.
I sat down at the table.
There were waffles stacked like it was a national emergency and we were preparing for war. Strawberries, whipped cream, Nutella. Bacon. Eggs. Even hash browns shaped like little hearts—don't ask me how, that's just how she rolls.
"Are we… not gonna talk about yesterday?" I asked cautiously.
Mom paused. Her eyes softened again.
"We will," she said gently, sliding a strawberry onto my plate. "But not this second. Right now, we eat. Right now, we're just… us."
Ray grunted in agreement. "Your mother tried to fight a seventeen-year-old girl yesterday. She deserves carbs."
"I wasn't gonna fight her," Ava sniffed, flipping her hair. "I was just gonna have a civil conversation with her parents about the importance of personal boundaries."
I coughed into my orange juice.
They bickered the way they always did—like two parts of the same soul who still hadn't confessed they were in love—and I watched them, this chaotic, weird, unconditional pair, and felt the guilt of yesterday still lodged somewhere in my chest.
But I also felt... forgiven.
Not excused. Not unpunished. But loved anyway.
Unconditionally.
The way only she knew how to love.
I caught her hand under the table and squeezed.
She looked at me, confused.
"Thanks, Ma," I said quietly.
She didn't say anything at first. Just leaned over and kissed the top of my head.
Then she muttered, "Next time, I'm bringing pepper spray to school."
Ray didn't even look up from his coffee. "I already bought her a taser."
I sighed. But I was smiling.
Waffles and redemption.
The Ava special.