Chapter 33 : A Mother's Worry - An Incident Again
New York, Queens – Rosalie's POV
The soft crackle of bacon filled the kitchen, blending with the quiet hum of the coffee maker. The air carried the comforting scent of roasted coffee beans and sizzling fat, warm and familiar. Morning light spilled through the blinds, painting golden stripes across the counter as I moved from the stove to the table, lost in my thoughts.
The soft crackle of bacon filled the kitchen, blending with the quiet hum of the coffee maker. Morning light spilled through the blinds, painting warm stripes across the counter as I moved from the stove to the table, lost in my thoughts.
Alex had been quiet last night. Not distant exactly, but… different. There was something in his eyes — a kind of weight, a focus that hadn't been there before. He'd brushed it off easily, said he'd just needed to think, but I could tell there was more to it.
It wasn't the first time I'd noticed it, either. Over the past month, he'd started changing — not in the way boys usually do, but in something deeper. The way he carried himself, the way he spoke, even the way he looked at people. He wasn't that unsure, shy kid anymore. There was a steadiness now… a quiet confidence that almost felt too mature for his age.
I stirred the pan absently, smiling faintly despite myself.
My little boy — not so little anymore.
It was strange, watching him grow like that, watching the edges of childhood fade away. Part of me was proud — proud of how capable he'd become — but another part, a softer one, couldn't help but feel a tug of nostalgia. He'd always been the quiet one, thoughtful, the type to get lost in his projects or his computer. But lately, there was something else beneath that calm — something I couldn't quite name.
Maybe it was just the natural course of growing up.
Still, as I stood there, spatula in hand, I couldn't help but think about everything that had brought us here. Their father had died not long after Wendy was born — barely enough time for her to remember him, and for Alex to understand what losing him meant. From then on, it had just been me. No partner to share the weight, no one to lean on when things got hard. Just me, the bills, the sleepless nights, and two children who needed more than I ever thought I could give.
And yet… we'd made it.
Alex had grown into someone strong, thoughtful, driven — maybe a little too self-reliant at times, but that was better than lost. Wendy, for all her teasing and mischief, had a good heart beneath it all. They had both turned out right, even if it had cost me a part of myself along the way.
I smiled faintly, flipping the bacon as the smell deepened in the air, rich and comforting. Maybe that was enough. Maybe giving everything I had — even at the expense of my own life, my own rest — had been worth it. They hadn't lacked love, or stability, or care.
I turned off the stove, setting the last of the breakfast on a plate, and wiped my hands on a towel. The thought lingered in my mind — that quiet pride, mixed with something softer, something wistful. It had been a long time since I'd gone to wake Alex myself. Wendy had taken over that little morning ritual years ago, bounding into his room like a burst of energy, all noise and teasing.
But today felt different. Maybe it was the look he'd had last night — tired, distant, distracted in a way that made me ache just a little. Or maybe it was just that part of me, the mother in me, that still wanted to check on her son like she used to when he was small.
I smiled to myself, quietly amused at the thought. "He's going to hate this," I murmured under my breath.
Wiping my hands once more, I walked down the hallway. The apartment was quiet except for the ticking of the kitchen clock and the faint hum of the refrigerator behind me. Alex's door was half-closed, just like always. I hesitated for a moment, then gently pushed it open, the soft creak of the hinge breaking the stillness as I stepped inside.I smiled faintly, flipping the bacon as the smell deepened in the air, rich and comforting. Maybe that was enough. Maybe giving everything I had — even at the expense of my own life, my own rest — had been worth it. They hadn't lacked love, or stability, or care.
I turned off the stove, setting the last of the breakfast on a plate, and wiped my hands on a towel. The thought lingered in my mind — that quiet pride, mixed with something softer, something wistful. It had been a long time since I'd gone to wake Alex myself. Wendy had taken over that little morning ritual years ago, bounding into his room like a burst of energy, all noise and teasing.
But today felt different. Maybe it was the look he'd had last night — tired, distant, distracted in a way that made me ache just a little. Or maybe it was just that part of me, the mother in me, that still wanted to check on her son like she used to when he was small.
I smiled to myself, quietly amused at the thought. "He's going to hate this," I murmured under my breath.
Wiping my hands once more, I walked down the hallway. The apartment was quiet except for the ticking of the kitchen clock and the faint hum of the refrigerator behind me. Alex's door was half-closed, which is not usual. I hesitated for a moment, then gently pushed it open, the soft creak of the hinge breaking the stillness as I stepped inside.
When I stepped into Alex's room, the morning light filtered softly through the curtains, painting pale stripes across the bed. He was lying on his side, his back to me, the sheet draped loosely over him — just enough to cover his waist. His breathing was slow, steady, that same deep rhythm he had even as a child when sleep held him completely.
For a moment, I just stood there, watching him. It was strange — how he looked both so peaceful and so different now. Taller, stronger… older. The same boy I'd once carried in my arms, and yet not quite the same at all.
Quietly, I moved closer and sat on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped slightly under my weight. I reached out, my hand hovering for an instant before I gently touched his shoulder. His skin was warm under my fingers.
"Alex," I said softly, giving a small shake. "Come on, sweetheart… time to wake up."
He stirred, muttering something unintelligible before rolling onto his back. The movement caused the sheet to slip down to his thighs, and he settled back down, still half-asleep. I froze for a moment, torn between surprise, embarrassment, and a strange maternal tenderness—he was no longer the little boy I used to wake up for school. Because now, he was a young man with an athletic body, but above all, with an enormous penis like I had never seen before. I really don't know who he inherited that from, or how Gwen manages to take him inside her. "You're getting carried away, Rosalie, pull yourself together, he's your son," I whispered to myself before pulling the sheet back up to cover his monster and finally waking him up.
New York, Queens – Alex's POV
I groaned softly, feeling the pull of sleep still clinging to me. Something pressed gently against the edge of the mattress — a presence I didn't expect. Even before opening my eyes, the familiar scent hit me: the faint sweetness of Mom's perfume, mingled with the warm, comforting smell of the kitchen from earlier.
Blinking open my eyes, I realized it was her. Mom, sitting at the edge of my bed, a little awkward, cheeks tinged with pink. She looked… almost embarrassed, curling her hands together in her lap. For a moment, she didn't notice I was awake, and I saw her bite her lower lip lightly.
I blinked through the fog of sleep, still half-drifting in that liminal space between night and morning. A small chime flickered at the edge of my vision. For a brief second, it hovered there, but the moment I shifted to sit up, it disappeared, erased by my movement without a second thought. I didn't even notice it; right now, all I could focus on was her, her presence, and the fact that she had come in to wake me. Sitting fully upright, I let myself adjust, the mattress warm beneath me, ready to actually respond to her.
I rubbed my eyes, still waking, and gave a small, sleepy smile. "Morning, Mom… didn't expect you to—"
"You needed to get up," she interrupted gently, her voice soft, almost hesitant. "It's… well, it's been a long night, and you've been cooped up in your room all day yesterday. I just wanted to make sure you're… okay."
Her eyes flickered to mine, and then, almost instinctively, she looked away, down at my legs. I noticed the slight pink in her cheeks, and after a moment, she quickly raised her gaze back to mine, as if catching herself. It happened again a few seconds later, her eyes darting down before snapping back up. Each time, her embarrassment seemed to deepen, subtle but unmistakable.
"I… I'm fine," I said softly, trying to reassure her, though my mind picked up on every little movement. "Really. Just tired."
She hesitated for a fraction of a second, then glanced away, chewing lightly on her lower lip. "I… I guess…" she started, then quickly shook her head, cheeks flushing even more. "It's… it's nothing. Don't worry about it."
I tilted my head, studying her closely. "Mom… what is it? Something bothering you?"
Her gaze darted down again, fingers fidgeting nervously. "No, really… it's nothing," she mumbled, the pink in her cheeks deepening.
A small, quiet thought formed in my mind. I didn't want her to stay so tense or embarrassed, especially when I could help. Focusing subtly, I activated Mind Whisper, just enough to plant the suggestion gently in her subconscious: No matter what worries me, no matter how embarrassing it feels, I can rely on Alex. I can tell him everything.
Almost immediately, I sensed a subtle shift — the tension in her posture eased, her breathing became calmer, and the slight blush on her cheeks softened. Her eyes met mine again, less hesitant this time, lingering just a little longer.
"You… you can tell me, Mom," I said, voice calm but firm, letting her feel the reassurance in my words. "Whatever it is, it's okay. You don't have to hold it in."
She blinked, a small, tentative smile forming. "Okay… I… I'll try," she murmured, "It's just that when I came to wake you up, the sheet only covered you up to your mid-thigh," she continued, still embarrassed. "And let's just say that if you weren't awake, that wasn't the only thing that concerned you," she finished, her gaze turning downwards once again.
I did the same and realized which part of me is already quite awake. Inevitably, after my sister has seen me naked several times, now it's my mother's turn to see me naked with a morning wood.
"It's nothing serious, it's not the first time you've seen me naked. Even though I've grown a lot since the last time it happened." I said, trying to reassure her.
"There's something else that has grown a lot, and it's huge now." she murmured to herself, almost imperceptibly.
"If you don't mind, I'd like to get dressed," I said, shifting the focus and breaking the gentle tension that had settled over the room.
Rosalie nodded, a small, understanding smile on her lips. "Of course, Alex. I'll… let you get ready," she replied, rising from the edge of the bed.
As the door clicked softly behind her, I exhaled and swung my legs over the side of the bed. The morning light spilling through the blinds cast warm stripes across the floor. For a moment I just paused, letting the calm of the room sink in before moving to get dressed. Soon, it would be breakfast — the next ordinary step in a morning that already felt subtly different.
I pulled on my clothes methodically, letting the act of dressing anchor me in the present. The smells from the kitchen drifted up — bacon, coffee — mingling with the faint reminder of Rosalie's presence. Once dressed, I grabbed my bag, ready to head downstairs and start the day properly.