POV: Adrien Ren (16)
If anyone ever asked me what it was like being Adrien Ren, I'd say this:
Imagine being raised by a billionaire father who intimidates entire boardrooms with a single look…
…and a mother who thinks you're still five and refuses to believe otherwise.
"Adrien," Dad said sharply from across the breakfast table, reading three newspapers at once. "Your tie's crooked."
"I'm not wearing a tie."
He looked up. "Exactly."
I sighed.
Then she came flying in.
My mother.
Ava freaking Ren.
In heels. With hair longer than my life. Lip gloss perfect. Power suit stunning. Carrying a stack of files and—of course—my lunchbox with "LOVE U BABY" written on it in glitter pen.
"I packed extra strawberries!" she announced like it was a Nobel Prize. "And a mini note in the napkin and your favorite mint gum because your breath smelled a little garlic-y yesterday, honey. Also, don't forget to wear sunscreen and text me when you get there and text me after class and—"
"Mom," I groaned. "I'm sixteen."
"Exactly! You could fall in love or get kidnapped at any moment."
She smooshed my face between her hands and planted a kiss on my forehead. Then one on my nose. Then my cheek. Then another on my forehead. And then—
"MOM."
"Sorry. I forgot the chin one."
Dad, sipping coffee: "He's clearly suffering."
I threw him a betrayed look. "Help me."
He shrugged. "You're the one who looks exactly like me. She's reliving my entire youth with upgraded maternal affection."
"She cries when I don't hug her back."
"I do not!" Mom gasped.
Dad arched a brow.
"…Okay once," she muttered. "Or ten. Shut up."
I stood, grabbed my bag, and tried to make my escape.
"MOM, I'm leaving. Goodbye. Thank you for the strawberries. Please don't run after the car again."
She blinked. "I'm not that dramatic."
Dad and I said in perfect sync: "Last week, you clung to the bumper."
She crossed her arms, pouting. "You're both heartless."
And then—just as I opened the door—I heard her call softly behind me, "I love you."
I paused. Turned back.
"I love you too," I muttered. And let her give me one more hug.
Because honestly? I wouldn't trade either of them for anything.
Even if my mom signs every school permission slip with "Mrs. Alex Ren, Attorney at Love."
---
POV: Alex Ren
It was late. The house was quiet, the kind of quiet that only settled when Ava had finally run out of energy for the day — a rare, golden moment. I stood by the doorway to Adrien's room, unnoticed.
Ava was curled on the edge of our son's bed, clinging to him like he was five and not almost six feet tall. Adrien looked vaguely distressed but didn't push her away.
"I don't care if you're sixteen," she mumbled into his shoulder, "you're still my baby, and you will cuddle me when I ask."
Adrien muttered something about emotional trauma. She gasped. "How dare you say that to your own mother after I gave you life and packed you heart-shaped cookies!"
She sniffled. Actually sniffled.
Adrien groaned and let her pull his head to her chest.
I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.
She caught me looking.
And that's when she lit up. Like always.
"Alex!" she beamed, holding Adrien like a pillow. "Come cuddle us!"
"No."
"Pleeease?"
I raised an eyebrow. "You're smothering the boy."
"He likes it."
"I do not," Adrien protested.
She smirked at me. "You're jealous."
I said nothing. But I didn't leave either.
She tilted her head. "You want me to kiss you too?"
Adrien groaned again, pulling a pillow over his face. "I'm leaving this house the second I turn eighteen."
"No, you're not," I said.
"Why not?"
"Because your mother would file a lawsuit against the universe."
Ava grinned and held her arms open. "C'mere, Mr. Ren."
I sighed, crossed the room, and let her wrap her arms around me too — over Adrien's indignant protests.
She was warm. Always had been.
And as she buried her face in my chest and whispered, "Mine. Both of you."
…I believed her.
The end.
Signing off
Siddhii Singh