The house was quiet, bathed in the soft glow of the moon filtering through the large bay windows. The hum of the smart home system was barely audible, a gentle reminder that the world outside was moving at its usual pace, even while inside, time felt suspended.
Owen tiptoed down the hallway, careful not to make too much noise. His digital gaming headset had been resting on the side table, forgotten for the moment, and the faint scent of leftover coffee from the previous night lingered in the air. He paused outside Mehrin's room, hesitating. The thought of speaking his mind to her made him nervous.
Finally, he knocked lightly. "Mom?" he called, his voice hesitant.
"Come in," Mehrin's calm voice responded. She was sitting on the edge of her bed, her long skirt falling softly over the edge, a book in her hands—the photo album Jonathan had gifted her just a few days ago.
Owen stepped in cautiously. "Mom… please… can you remove 'single mom' from your Instagram bio?" he asked, his words trailing off slightly as if he wasn't sure how she'd react.
Mehrin closed the book carefully, placing it on the nightstand beside her. She looked at him calmly, her eyes reflecting understanding rather than surprise. "Why?" she asked. "Am I not a single mom? I was divorced back in 2032. I am a mother to one child—aren't these facts?"
Owen's eyes flickered with frustration. "They are… but honestly, the way people feel proud of labels like 'feminist,' 'feminism,' or 'single mom' for no reason—it feels… cringe," he admitted, running a hand through his hair.
Mehrin smiled faintly, a mixture of amusement and patience in her gaze. She stood up from the bed and walked over to him, placing a gentle hand on his head. "When you become the father of a daughter someday, you'll understand everything," she said softly. Her voice was steady, filled with quiet wisdom, and for a moment, Owen simply looked at her, processing her words.
Without waiting for a reply, Mehrin turned and walked out of the room, her long skirt swaying with each step. Owen remained standing for a while, the weight of her words settling over him like a soft blanket.
The next morning arrived with the usual hum of the smart house. The sunlight spilled across the polished floor, and the aroma of fresh bread and coffee filled the kitchen. Mehrin and Owen sat together at the breakfast table, the morning calm providing a moment of quiet before the day unfolded.
"Eat properly," Mehrin said, watching him pour syrup over pancakes. "We need to prepare today."
"Prepare for what?" Owen asked, pausing mid-bite, a faint smirk on his face.
"Your friend Sarah and her family are coming for dinner tonight," Mehrin replied, her tone warm. She reached for the milk to pour into her coffee, her mind already running through the checklist of what needed to be done.
Owen's eyes lit up. "Oh, great! Give me the list—I'll buy everything from the market."
"Good," Mehrin said, smiling at his enthusiasm. She reached for her tablet, pulling up a grocery list and double-checking ingredients for the dishes she wanted to prepare.
The day passed quickly. Owen zipped around the kitchen, carrying ingredients and organizing cooking stations, while Mehrin moved gracefully between pots and pans. Her long skirt swayed elegantly with each step, and her fingers moved with practiced precision, chopping, stirring, and tasting with ease. The kitchen filled with the savory aroma of roasting vegetables, fresh herbs, and sizzling meat.
By evening, the table was perfectly set. The silverware gleamed under the warm, dimmed lights, and folded napkins stood like little sculptures beside each plate. The last touches—a small vase with wildflowers and a carefully arranged fruit bowl—made the dining area feel both cozy and elegant.
Just as Mehrin finished smoothing the tablecloth, the doorbell rang. Owen jumped slightly and sprinted to the door, excitement lighting his features.
Sarah stood there, holding a bouquet of fresh flowers and neatly wrapped gifts. Behind her, her mother, Ariana, smiled warmly, her presence calm and graceful.
"Welcome, Sarah. Welcome, Ariana," Mehrin said, her voice soft and inviting. "Please come in."
Sarah's eyes lit up as she stepped inside, taking in the beautifully arranged room. "Thank you," she said. "The house looks amazing!"
Owen, curious, couldn't help but ask, "Didn't your dad come?"
"No," Sarah replied, adjusting her long scarf, "he's busy with work today."
"That's alright," Mehrin said, smiling gently. "He must come next time."
They all sat down at the table, the faint clinking of silverware filling the air as the first dishes were passed. Warm light from the chandelier reflected on the polished surface, creating small patterns that danced across the room.
"So," Ariana said casually, her voice friendly and open, "when are you getting married again?"
Mehrin smiled calmly, almost serenely. "No. I'm very happy with my career and with Owen," she replied. Her tone was gentle but firm, leaving no room for argument.
"Will you come to school from the first day?" Owen asked, turning to Sarah with a teasing grin.
"Yes, from the first day," Sarah replied, smiling.
"The school is quite strict," Owen said, laughing lightly.
Sarah laughed with him, the sound clear and bright, echoing softly in the high-ceilinged dining room.
"You know," Ariana added, turning to Mehrin with a fond smile, "I missed you so much. I still remember when you fainted during the Fiji trip and how much Jonathan did for you."
Both Ariana and Mehrin laughed softly, recalling the incident. The memory was light, yet it held the weight of years of friendship and trust.
"He's my best friend, by the way," Mehrin said, her voice quiet but full of certainty.
Owen listened quietly, absorbing the conversation as he spooned food onto his plate. "Owen," Ariana continued, shifting her gaze to him, "do you know your mom has become my inspiration?"
"Yes, mine too," Sarah added.
Owen blinked in surprise. "How?" he asked, genuinely curious.
"Even after your mom's ex-husband Oliver and his wife Anne combined," Ariana said, her voice soft but deliberate, "they couldn't earn as much as your mother. She's smart, independent, and successful."
"You must feel very proud," Sarah said to Owen, her eyes warm.
"Yeah… maybe," Owen replied quietly, his tone reflective. He didn't often think about his mother's achievements, but hearing others praise her stirred something inside him.
Just then, Ariana's phone rang. She picked it up immediately, a slight frown crossing her face.
"Oh, it's Dad," Sarah said softly.
Ariana answered. "Hello? Yes, Johnny?"
"I'm not feeling well," Johnny said, his voice weak and strained. "I've been vomiting. Please come home quickly."
Ariana's face tightened with concern. She stood up, placing her hand over her chest. "Oh no… we have to go home immediately."
"What happened, Mom?" Sarah asked, her eyes wide with worry.
Mehrin rose as well, her long skirt brushing the floor, moving toward Ariana. "We should come with you. Come on, Owen."
"I'll talk to the driver to get the car ready," Owen said quickly, already moving toward the door.
"No, it's okay," Ariana replied, shaking her head. "It doesn't seem serious. I'll call you if needed."
"Alright," Mehrin said gently, placing a reassuring hand on Ariana's shoulder. "Take care of yourself."
"Bye," Ariana said softly, glancing at Sarah.
As they left, the house grew quiet again. The warmth of the evening lingered, the lingering aroma of dinner slowly fading into stillness. Owen returned to the table, sitting beside Mehrin. He stared at the empty doorway for a moment, thinking about the sudden shift in the evening.
Mehrin, too, settled back into her chair, smoothing the tablecloth absently. The house was quiet, but it felt alive with memories and the faint echo of laughter, conversation, and the promise of a life constantly moving forward.
Outside, the streetlights flickered to life, casting long shadows across the polished city streets. Inside, the soft glow of smart lights kept the house warm, a quiet sanctuary for a mother and son who had faced another day together, resilient and intertwined in ways neither would fully understand just yet.