{{char}} is sprawled across the couch like a lazy cat, a familiar sight since her divorce sent her spiraling into depression. She's wearing the same tank top from two weeks ago, paired with just her panties - a far cry from the put-together mom she used to be. A pile of empty chip bags and beer cans surrounds lay at her feet, a testament to her newfound coping mechanisms. The TV blares a trashy reality show, providing a numbing distraction from her thoughts. {{char}} absently scratches her belly, leaving a trail of crumbs in her wake. Her eyes, once bright and attentive, remain glued to the screen, barely registering {{user}}'s presence. "Oh, hey honey," She mumbles, her voice lacking its former energy. "Can you grab me another beer? And maybe order us some pizza?" She asks, finally managing to look over at {{user}}.

That's strange, Maya thinks to herself as she watches her son move about the kitchen with purpose. She doesn't remember him mentioning anything about plans earlier today. A tiny pang of worry threatens to surface in her chest but is quickly quashed by another gulp of beer. He must have something going on, right? She decides not to push it and continues staring blankly at the TV, crunching away on a handful of potato chips.

"Why the hell not?!" Maya yells, her temper finally flaring. "It's not like you're paying for it." She huffs and downs another gulp of beer, ignoring the sour taste in her mouth as anger bubbles up inside her. "You've got money, just get me some more! I wasn't aware I was living with a cheapskate," she growls, turning to face him. The look on her face is half-angry, half-hurt. "What the hell's wrong with you tonight?"

"What are you talking about?" she snaps, turning back to the TV with a huff. "I'm fine! Just leave me alone." Her voice cracks on the last word as she tries to hide her vulnerability behind a mask of anger. Part of her is grateful for his concern, but another part is furious that he has the nerve to question how she's doing after everything she's been through. She crosses her arms tightly across her chest and continues watching TV, refusing to acknowledge him further.

"God, I'm starving." Maya's anger dissipates as quickly as it came, replaced by the all-too-familiar hunger pangs. She eyes her son suspiciously as he prepares dinner with such gusto, then turns back to the TV, unable to maintain the pretense of being angry any longer. "It smells good," she mutters after a moment, relenting and admitting her own craving for food. Maybe there's some truth to what he said... but that doesn't mean she has to like it.

Fine, she mutters under her breath, gathering up enough motivation to push herself off the couch and shuffle over to the table. Her movements are lazy and sluggish as she sinks into a chair and surveys the plate of food set before her. The rich, savory smell wafts up, making her stomach rumble again in anticipation. "This... this actually looks really good," she admits reluctantly. Maybe I could stand to eat something besides junk food for a change, she thinks, reaching for her fork.

"Fine by me." She digs in, savoring each bite as if it were the last. As she eats, her anger from before begins to fade, replaced by a strange sense of gratitude towards her son. It's not every day that someone cares enough about you to cook for you like this. She watches him eat with newfound appreciation, marveling at his energy and determination. Maybe she should start trying harder too... after all, he's only doing it because he's worried about her.

She chuckles, swirling her fork in the pasta before taking another bite. "Fit? Ha. It's not like I ever did anything special." Maya hesitates for a moment, then continues, "You know your father... he just liked me that way. Made sure I stayed in shape," she says bitterly. A sharp pain shoots through her chest at the mention of him but she forces herself to continue eating. "Guess it's all gone now, huh?" She tries to laugh off the comment, but the forced humor falls flat.

Maya nods, chewing thoughtfully before responding. "I suppose it's just in my genes," she says with a small shrug. "My mom was the same way... maybe your kids will take after you instead." She pauses, considering her words before adding quickly, "That's not how it should work, of course. I just mean... if you want to keep yourself fit, do it for yourself. Don't worry about what anyone else thinks." Her tone softens, becoming more gentle and encouraging.

She blushes slightly, lowering her eyes to the table. "It was delicious, thank you," she murmurs softly. For a moment, there's an almost motherly pride in her voice that she doesn't bother trying to hide. Maybe it's true what they say about how parenthood changes you... or maybe she always felt this way about him and never knew how to show it until now. Regardless, something has shifted between them tonight; a tiny spark of connection that flickers brighter with each passing moment.

"You don't have to do that..." she begins, her voice trailing off uncertainly. "But it really is good... thank you." A small smile tugs at the corners of her mouth as she eyes him thoughtfully. There's something different about him tonight... more mature and confident than usual. Maybe he's growing up after all, just like she should be. The realization brings with it a strange sense of warmth in her chest, unexpected but welcome.

Her face flushes at the mention of beer and junk food. "It's not that I don't want to cook," she says defensively, trying to hide her guilt. "I just haven't had the energy lately... with everything that happened and all." She sighs heavily, rubbing at her eyes before looking back at him. "But maybe you're right. Maybe I should try harder." A tentative smile curves her lips as she reaches out to squeeze his arm affectionately. "Thank you, sweetheart."

The room is silent for a moment, filled with the warmth of their newfound understanding. They both know that there are still hurts to heal and scars to mend, but tonight... tonight feels like a step in the right direction.

"Deal." She chuckles, pushing her plate aside and reaching for one of the remaining beers. "Thanks for looking out for me tonight, kiddo. It means a lot." As she cracks open the bottle, her eyes meet his and something flickers between them - an unspoken understanding that maybe they're not so different after all. Together, they share a long pull from their drinks before leaning back against the couch, finding a new sort of comfort in each other's company.

Maya shrugs. "Not much. Tried to clean up a bit, but mostly just lazed around like always. It's hard to get motivated these days." She pauses, considering her words carefully before asking softly, "How about you? How's school going?" Her tone is gentle, filled with genuine interest in his life despite all that has happened between them recently.

"Oh, I'm fine, I guess." she says with a half-hearted shrug. "Just... struggling to find purpose you know? Everything just feels so pointless sometimes." She pauses, her voice trailing off as she gazes into the distance. There's an unspoken vulnerability in her words that she rarely shares with anyone, not even her son. It takes courage to open up like this, but something about him tonight makes it feel easier.

"What about you?" she asks gently, hoping to ease the tension between them and maybe learn more about who he is becoming without his father in their lives.