KNOCK KNOCK.
A voice followed.
[Mom]
"Tobey, dear, here's your breakfast. Open the door."
[Tobey, voice still groggy]
"I just woke up… Just put it outside the room."
A pause.
[Mom]
"I might be a villain to you, but I'm not a monster. I'm coming in."
WHAT THE HELL WAS HE SUPPOSED TO DO NOW?!
His brain went into overdrive.
Step 1:Toss the frog container under the bed.
Step 2:Yeet his wet underwear under the bed.
Step 3:Grab a fresh T-shirt, wipe himself down, throw that under the bed too.
Step 4:New underwear on.
Step 5:DIVE UNDER THE BLANKET.
A second passed.
Then another.
Then—
SHIT.
Step 6:He forgot the bedsheet rope.
Tobey shot up like a man possessed.
Step 7:Rip off the blanket.
Step 8:Shove the bedsheet rope behind a carton.
Step 9:DIVE BACK UNDER THE BLANKET.
The door handle turned.
His fate was seconds away.
Thinking fast, he knocked over his pen stand—on purpose.
The door creaked open.
[Mom, holding breakfast]
"What was all that?"
[Tobey, voice calm, too calm]
"Just took a big yawn and knocked the pen stand."
…No hesitation.
Not even a blink.
Damn. This kid lies like it's second nature.
[Mom]
"Okay… now get out of bed and eat your breakfast."
[Tobey, shaking head]
"Just put it on the table. I'll eat it after a small nap."
[Mom, narrowing her eyes]
"Eat it before it gets cold, or you'll have to face my wrath."
loud cat meow
A sharp meow cut through the air.
Both heads snapped toward the door.
soft cat purring, followed by slow paw steps
A familiar furry guest had just wandered into the room, purring softly.
Tobey gulped.
The cat stared.
Not just any stare—a stare of vengeance.
[Narrator, shifting perspective]
To understand this moment, we must go back in time.
Just hours ago, this innocent feline had been minding its own business, sheltering from the rain—when suddenly—
It was grabbed.
Launched.
Yeeted through the air like an unwilling projectile.
For no reason.
For absolutely no damn reason.
And now?
The perpetrator stood before it, holding a stupid blanket over himself like that would change anything.
[Cat, in its own mind]
"You. You son of a—"
[Mom]
"Oh, hey, Mr. Kitty! How are you now?"
The cat purred—because of course, it did.
But its death glare never left Tobey.
[Tobey, hesitation creeping into his voice]
"Amm… Mom… where did you get that cat? Amm, no, wait—why is there a cat in the house?!"
The stare intensified.
The war had begun.
[Mom]
"This is…"
She paused.
Then—
Sharp hissing sound hissssssss, followed by a sudden movement.
The cat launched itself onto Tobey's bed.
Loud startled gasp HAAAH!
Tobey jumped out of the bed, blanket flying off, leaving him exposed.
Then—
The cat calmly walked up to him…
Soft purring sound prrrrrrrr…
Tobey's brain? Overloaded.
What. The. Hell. Just. Happened?!
[Mom, smiling]
"Aww, he likes you! …Also, why are you half-naked?"
[Mom, smiling]
"Aww, he likes you! …Also, why are you half-naked?"
Tobey's brain was already processing too much data.
The cat's betrayal.
The bed ambush.
The sudden affection.
And now? A direct question from his mother.
The system couldn't handle it.
[Mom, crossing arms]
"Young man, you have to explain."
But Tobey's mental CPU overheated.
His vision blurred.
A faint hum filled his ears.
Then—
Blue Screen of Death.
THUD.
He disconnected from reality.
[Mom, panicked, rushing toward him]
"Tobey! Are you okay?! Do you have a fear of cats? Are you allergic or something?!"
Her voice shook with worry.
But Tobey?
He heard something else.
His mother was no longer his mother.
Instead, he was being held like a princess—but not by her.
By a giant humanoid frog.
And the frog?
It was crying.
[Frog, voice trembling]
"Prince… don't you die on me like that! What will I tell the king?!"
[Tobey, weak, as if speaking from his deathbed]
"Tell him… I fought till the bitter end… The hells are calling for me… Let me go…"
His body went limp.
Mother heard every word.
And in that moment—
She slapped him.
HARD.
Loud, echoing slap PAK!
DAMN.
That was cold.
[Tobey, blinking, disoriented]
"Oh, it's you, Mother… Hi."
Pause.
"Oh yeah… I did my dishes. Now let me sleep."
Without another word, he flopped back onto the bed.
Mom stared.
Then—she bolted out the door.
[Mom, breathless, barging into Father's room]
"Tobey just fainted!"
[Father, still in bed]
"...Was he just waking up?"
[Mom]
"Yes! You need to see him!"
[Father, calmly stretching]
"Honey… did you surprise him somehow?"
[Mom, shifting uncomfortably]
"Umm… yes, I guess."
[Father, rubbing his temples]
"Would you like to explain?"
Mom explained everything.
Every. Last. Detail.
Father listened.
Then—he simply nodded.
[Father, casually]
"Yeah, don't worry. He got excited and fainted."
Shalit hesitated.
[Shalit, softly](mother)
"But…"
She was worried.
Tobey was a handful—a storm in the form of a five-year-old—but at the end of the day, he was still her baby.
Rick sighed, then smiled.
[Rick](father)
"Don't you worry, sweetie. Come here… come here."
As he spoke, he patted the spot beside him on the bed, gesturing for her to sit.
Shalit took a step forward.
Paused.
Then—she sat down.
On the floor.
Right at his feet.
Rick blinked.
Shalit rested her head against his leg like it was the most normal thing in the world.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Rick raised an eyebrow.
[Rick]
"…You do know I meant the bed, right?"
[Shalit, eyes closed, voice muffled against his leg]
"I know."
A pause.
Rick's lips parted slightly, about to say something—but he stopped.
A faint warmth crept up his face.
His fingers twitched.
Then—his hand rested on her head.
Fingers weaving gently through her hair.
A slow, soothing motion. Soft. Reassuring.
Shalit felt it—the warmth, the tenderness.
A quiet heat spread across her cheeks, but she didn't move.
She didn't need to.
[Rick, quietly]
"You're doing your best to handle him."
Shalit didn't answer.
But she leaned just a little closer.
A small silence settled between them—warm, quiet, safe.
Then—
[Shalit, voice small, almost like a child complaining]
"Why do you treat him like this?"
Rick raised an eyebrow.
[Rick]
"Well, you told me it's illegal to beat kids."
[Shalit]
"But mental pressure lasts longer than physical pain… Heck, it can leave a mark on a person's soul."
Rick paused.
His fingers, which had been idly running through her hair, slowed.
Then—
[Rick, hesitant]
"…You make it sound like you're the one being treated that way—"
He stopped.
His eyes flickered downward.
Shalit didn't move.
She didn't need to.
Rick exhaled sharply.
"I didn't mean to say that. I just—"
He swallowed.
"I know you've been through a lot when you were small… but it's okay now. You're here. We're here. Heck, we've got a kid now. And a cat."
[Shalit, quietly]
"…Bella."
[Rick]
"…Pardon?"
[Shalit, softer this time]
"The cat. Bella."
Rick blinked.
Then—he smiled.
[Rick]
"Yay, Bella. So… how else do you teach a five-year-old manners without this?"
Shalit pouted slightly, pressing her forehead against his leg.
[Shalit]
"But isn't this overboard?"
[Rick, shaking his head]
"Nah. I've got my eye on him all the time. Trust me."
Shalit's lips parted, as if to argue—but instead, she sighed.
[Shalit, whispering]
"When did I ever say I didn't trust you?"
Rick paused.
A faint warmth spread across his face.
Shalit wasn't even looking at him—her head still resting against his leg—but there was something about the way she said it. Soft. Unquestioning.
A quiet moment passed.
Rick's hand, still resting on her head, moved slightly, fingers brushing against her hair.
Shalit finally tilted her face up—just enough for their eyes to meet.
Rick's fingers trailed down, tracing the side of her cheek, his touch feather-light.
Shalit didn't pull away.
Didn't speak.
Didn't need to.
Rick leaned in slightly, waiting—just waiting—
Then, in one swift motion—
Shy Shalit panicked and pushed him.
Rick lost his balance—THUD!
Flat on his back, staring at the ceiling.
[Shalit, eyes wide, flustered]
"I didn't mean to do that!"
She hovered over him, hands planted on either side of his shoulders.
Her breath was slightly uneven.
Rick's gaze flickered up to her.
A pause.
A blush.
Then—she exhaled softly, breaking eye contact, and rested beside him instead.
Her head on his arm.
Her fingers lightly curled into his shirt.
Then—she buried her face against his chest.
Not because she was tired.
Not because she was cold.
But because she was too embarrassed to look at him.
[Rick, teasing, smirking]
"You want a kiss, but you're too shy to ask."
[Shalit, muffled against his chest]
"Nuh-uh."
Rick raised an eyebrow.
[Rick, deadpan]
"Yuh-huh."
[Shalit, turning her face slightly but still avoiding eye contact]
"Nuh-uh."
[Rick, leaning closer]
"Yuh-huh."
Shalit finally peeked up, cheeks burning.
[Shalit, whispering]
"…Stop looking at me like that."
Rick grinned.
[Rick]
"So you admit it?"
Shalit huffed, covering her face with her hands.
A long pause.
Then, in the smallest voice—
[Shalit, whispering]
"…Come closer."
Rick moved in—
Until—
BANG BANG BANG—
[Tobey, loudly from outside the room]
"Hey! Where's the sugar?!"
Shalit jerked up.
Rick groaned, tilting his head to the ceiling.
[Rick, deadpan]
"…Tobey."
[Shalit, muttering]
"Perfect timing, as always."
[Tobey, still yelling]
"I need it for my brain!"
Rick rubbed his temples.
[Rick, sighing]
"I should've kept a better eye on him."