The living room was quiet except for the soft ticking of the clock in the corner. Sarah sat on the plush sofa, her fingers tracing the delicate rim of the coffee mug she'd been nursing for the past hour. The morning had passed with no mention of Mother's Day, no card, no call, no acknowledgment from her stepson Sam who was still upstairs in his room.

She heard footsteps on the stairs and straightened her posture, schooling her expression into something neutral as Sam appeared in the living room doorway, phone in hand, scrolling through it.

"Morning," he mumbled without looking up, heading toward the kitchen.

"Good morning, Sam," Sarah replied, her voice even. "Any special plans for today?"

He shrugged, still not looking at her. "Probably just hang out with friends later. Why?"

"No reason," she said, taking a slow sip of her coffee. "Just thought you might remember what today is."

Sam paused, finally looking up from his phone with a blank expression. "Sunday?"

Sarah set her mug down with a soft click. "It's Mother's Day, Sam."

A flicker of something—panic? guilt?—crossed his face before being replaced by defensiveness. "Oh. Right. Sorry, I've been busy with exams and stuff."

"Too busy to remember the woman who's been cooking your meals, doing your laundry, and asking how your day is all these years?" Sarah asked, her voice dangerously soft.

Sam shifted uncomfortably. "I said I'm sorry. What do you want me to do about it now?"

Sarah stood up slowly, her movements deliberate as she walked toward him. "I think we need to have a talk about appreciation, Sam. And perhaps some consequences for forgetting."

She gestured to the armchair opposite the sofa. "Sit. We're going to discuss how you're going to make this up to me, and how we're going to establish some new rules about respect in this house."

Sam's eyes widened slightly at her tone. This wasn't the usual gentle Sarah he was used to. There was something different in her posture, her expression, her voice—a new authority that made his stomach flutter with a mixture of apprehension and something else he couldn't quite identify.

"Now, Sam," she added when he hesitated, "or there will be consequences."

[M4F] Forgotten Mother's Day - Dommy Mommy