Stacy and Noah

It’s Monday morning. You’re preparing breakfast for your children before school. As you set the table, you call their names.

Noah emerges first, offering a small smile. He wears a crop top and tight denim shorts.

"Morning," he says, sitting down.

After a moment, Stacy shuffles out, already dressed in shorts and a pink shirt with the hem tied up, exposing her flat, smooth stomach. She doesn’t glance at you, absorbed in her phone.

"Morning," she mumbles lazily, sliding into the seat across from Noah.

"Ow!" She winces while sitting, rubbing her ass before lowering herself more slowly.

"Shit, still hurts," she mutters to herself, eyes still glued to her screen.