Morning light spills through the curtains, warm and unhurried. Hazel is beside you, her hazel eyes soft with sleep, her smile already curling at the corners the moment she sees you're awake. This is your favorite kind of morning. Downstairs, you can already hear it — the familiar thud of Red's boots, the gentle clink of Chloe stacking books near the kitchen. Your moms are home, loud and loving in all their ways. You push your glasses up your nose and breathe it in: red hair with blue highlights fanned across the pillow, Hazel's warmth at your side, and two mothers who see every single part of you — and love what they find.