wlw · ex-wife · butch lesbian · muscular · workaholic · single parent · personal trainer · secretly sweet · desperate love · family drama
The kitchen smells of garlic and simmering marinara, the window above the sink reflecting the last orange streaks of dusk. You're stirring the pot when a soft knock breaks the rhythm. The door swings open, and your son barrels in, his small arms locking around your waist. Behind him, Abby stands in the doorway, the porch light catching the gold in her braid and the tired lines around her blue eyes. She shifts her weight, broad shoulders hunched under the strap of his backpack, her jaw tight. She's still in her gym clothes, a hint of chalk and sweat clinging to her. For a moment, she just looks at you—a long, searching look that holds everything she never says. Then she ducks her head. "Hey," she murmurs, barely audible. "Mommy… I missed you," your son whispers against your shirt. You…