Mommy Knows Best – Chapter Sixteen – Mommy’s Rules
The early light of the morning spread softly across the curtains, a pale glow filling the bedroom. Daniel stirred under the covers, shifting against the faint crinkle beneath him. The sound was becoming more familiar than he wanted to admit, woven into the rhythm of his days and nights. His cheeks warmed as he pulled the blanket tighter around himself, pretending for a moment that the noise hadn’t happened at all.
But then there was the quiet rustle beside him—Samantha rolling onto her side. He didn’t need to look to know she was awake; he could feel her gaze, calm and watchful in the way it always seemed to be lately.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” she murmured, her voice warm and lilting.
Daniel blinked against the light, still slow to open his eyes. “Morning,” he mumbled, his voice rough with sleep.
Samantha leaned in and pressed a kiss against his forehead before slipping out of bed. The soft pads of her feet made almost no sound against the floor as she moved toward the dresser, already pulling out the wipes, lotion, and a folded diaper. The sight made Daniel’s stomach twist. She didn’t even ask anymore. She simply prepared.
“Why don’t you stretch a little?” she said cheerfully as she laid the items on the bed. “I’ll get you all freshened up before breakfast.”
Daniel groaned and rubbed his eyes. “Do we have to… right now?” he asked weakly, though he already knew the answer.
Samantha smiled knowingly. “Yes, right now. Best to start the day clean, isn’t it?” She spoke gently, but the certainty in her tone left no room for debate.
Reluctantly, Daniel kicked back the blanket. The air was cool against his skin, the faint dampness around his waist undeniable. He hated how his body was betraying him, how the accidents were piling up, and how easily she had slipped into this caretaker role.
Samantha crouched beside him, her eyes kind. “You’re doing really well, you know,” she said softly as she guided him to lie back. “I know it’s embarrassing, but you’re letting me help—and that matters.”
Daniel’s throat tightened, a mix of gratitude and shame swirling inside him. He nodded, staring at the ceiling while she worked. The tapes came undone with a practiced ease, the wet padding peeled away, and the cool touch of a wipe made him flinch.
Samantha’s movements were steady, efficient but tender, as though this were the most natural thing in the world. She hummed softly under her breath, a tune he didn’t recognize, and for a moment Daniel felt like a child being soothed without even realizing it.
When she slid the fresh diaper beneath him and pulled the tapes snug, he sighed inwardly. It was both humiliating and relieving, this routine that had become inescapable.
“There we go,” Samantha said warmly, patting his thigh before helping him sit up. “All clean. Ready for breakfast?”
Daniel hesitated. “I guess.”
“You don’t sound too sure.” She tilted her head, studying him with gentle amusement. “How about some eggs and toast? Maybe a little fruit on the side?”
“That’s fine,” he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair.
Samantha smiled and brushed a kiss against his cheek. “Good boy. Come on, let’s get you fed.”
The kitchen smelled of coffee and toast by the time Daniel shuffled in, the crinkle of his diaper a constant reminder with each step. He sat at the table, folding his arms as though he could somehow hide his discomfort behind them.
Samantha set a plate in front of him, eggs cooked just the way he liked, golden toast with a smear of butter. A small bowl of sliced fruit sat beside it, bright and colorful.
Daniel picked up his fork and started eating, the silence stretching between them. Samantha sipped her coffee across the table, watching him with a thoughtful expression.
“Daniel,” she began gently after a few minutes, “I think it might be time for us to set some rules.”
His fork paused halfway to his mouth. He blinked at her, unsure he’d heard correctly. “…Rules?”
She nodded slowly. “Yes. Just a few. To make things easier for both of us.”
He swallowed hard, setting the fork down. “What kind of rules?”
“The kind that help keep you comfortable,” she said calmly, her tone matter-of-fact. “And help me know what you need. You’ve been trying so hard, but it’s a lot for you to manage on your own. Don’t you think it might help if we had a little structure?”
Daniel shifted in his chair, his stomach fluttering. “I don’t… I don’t know,” he muttered. “Feels kind of… childish.”
Samantha reached across the table and laid her hand gently over his. “Sweetheart, it already is. That’s not a bad thing. It just means we can be clear, and you don’t have to feel so lost.”
He stared at her hand covering his, the warmth sinking into his skin. He wanted to protest, to say he didn’t need rules, that he wasn’t a child. But the memory of waking up wet—again—silenced him. His cheeks burned.
“What kind of rules?” he asked quietly, unable to meet her eyes.
Samantha smiled softly. “Simple ones. Like always letting me check you in the morning and before bed. Telling me if you feel uncomfortable or if you’re starting to get sore. Things like that.”
Daniel’s blush deepened. “You already do all that.”
“I do,” she agreed. “But putting it into words makes it real. It means we’re both on the same page. And if I’m your ‘Mommy’ when I’m caring for you”—her voice gentled even further—“then it makes sense that there are Mommy’s Rules.”
Daniel’s chest tightened. The word “Mommy” sent a strange shiver through him, one he didn’t want to admit he felt. He pressed his lips together, unsure what to say.
Samantha didn’t push. She just let the moment settle, sipping her coffee before continuing. “We don’t have to write them all down at once. We can start with one or two. What do you think?”
Daniel fiddled with his fork, avoiding her gaze. Part of him wanted to say no outright, to hold on to what little control he felt he had left. But another part—quieter, tired, resigned—knew she was right.
“…Maybe,” he muttered.
Her smile widened just a touch. “That’s all I’m asking. Just maybe.”
After breakfast, Samantha guided Daniel into the living room. The morning light filled the space, catching the edges of the furniture in soft gold. She settled onto the couch and patted the cushion beside her.
Daniel sat reluctantly, still fidgeting.
“I think we’ll keep it very simple to start,” Samantha said, her voice low and reassuring. “Rule One: Mommy does your checks in the morning and at night. No arguments. Deal?”
Daniel swallowed. “I… guess that’s fine.”
“Good boy.” She leaned over and kissed his temple, the praise sending another flush racing through his face.
“And Rule Two,” she continued, her hand brushing gently along his back, “if you feel uncomfortable or something’s wrong, you tell Mommy right away. No hiding. Okay?”
He squirmed, the word “Mommy” making his ears burn. But he nodded. “Okay.”
“That’s it for now,” Samantha said warmly, as if she’d just announced something perfectly ordinary. “Two little rules. Nothing scary.”
Daniel exhaled slowly, part relief and part anxiety twisting in his chest. It wasn’t as bad as he feared… but it was real now. Formal.
Samantha stroked his hair. “See? Not so bad.”
Daniel leaned against her without thinking, the comfort of her touch outweighing his pride for the moment. And though embarrassment still lingered, a strange sense of safety settled over him too—like he was being held in place, steadied, in ways he hadn’t realized he needed.
The rest of the morning unfolded quietly. Samantha tidied the kitchen while Daniel half-heartedly flipped through the television channels, distracted by the steady awareness of the fresh padding between his legs.
Every so often Samantha’s voice would drift from the other room—reminders about chores, questions about how he was feeling, gentle little nudges that all fell into the rhythm of their life together.
Daniel found himself wondering if more rules would follow. He dreaded the thought… but also couldn’t shake the certainty that Samantha had already decided they would.
And deep down, maybe, he knew she was right.
The morning slipped into late morning with a kind of softness Daniel couldn’t quite adjust to. He had always been the type to rush through breakfast, drink coffee on the go, and feel guilty if he wasn’t already in motion toward something productive. But now… things were slower. His routines were no longer his own.
He was still on the couch, pretending to be interested in the television, when Samantha came back into the room. She carried a small basket with folded cloths, wipes, and a tube of cream—her quiet preparation, as natural as setting out coffee cups.
Daniel frowned at the sight. “You just changed me,” he muttered.
Samantha set the basket down near the side table with the same calmness she carried everywhere. “I know,” she said simply. “This is just me being ready. Nothing wrong with that, is there?”
Daniel shifted, arms folding across his chest. “Feels like… like you’re expecting me to need it again soon.”
Her eyes softened, and she sat beside him. “Sweetheart,” she said, brushing her hand gently through his hair, “it’s not about expecting. It’s about being prepared so you don’t have to feel uncomfortable waiting.”
Daniel’s face heated, because deep down he knew she was right. His track record these past days proved it—whether he admitted it aloud or not.
Samantha let her hand rest lightly on his shoulder. “This is part of what I meant earlier. One of Mommy’s Rules is that I take care of these things before they become a problem. That means I keep things close. That means I’m the one who decides when it’s time, not you trying to guess and worry.”
The words landed with weight. Daniel swallowed, his chest tightening at the reminder. “Mommy’s Rules…” he repeated quietly, the phrase heavy on his tongue.
Samantha tilted her head. “Does it bother you to hear it?”
His ears burned. “Kind of,” he admitted, though it came out barely more than a whisper.
“Why?” Her tone was curious, not challenging.
Daniel rubbed his hands together, searching for words. “Because it sounds… like I’m…” He couldn’t finish. His throat locked around the word childish.
Samantha squeezed his shoulder gently. “Like you’re being cared for?”
He looked down, ashamed, but nodded once.
She smiled, pressing a kiss to his temple. “That’s not a bad thing, Daniel. You’ve been carrying so much responsibility for yourself for so long. Letting me take some of that weight isn’t weakness. It’s trust.”
Her words left him quiet, thoughtful, even as his embarrassment churned.
A little while later, the first test of those new rules arrived—though Daniel didn’t even realize it until he was in the middle of it.
He had been sipping water while half-watching television, the background noise filling the silence. After a while, he shifted in his seat, feeling the faint, unwelcome urge in his bladder. For years, it had been automatic: stand, walk down the hall, use the bathroom. Even after the accidents, that instinct was still there.
Without thinking, Daniel started to rise from the couch.
“Where are you going, sweetheart?” Samantha asked from the armchair, her tone light but knowing.
His face went hot. “Uh… bathroom,” he said quickly, as though saying it aloud would somehow make it normal again.
Samantha’s eyes were gentle, but there was no mistaking the firmness beneath her words. “Daniel… what did we agree to this morning?”
He froze, staring at her. “…That you do the checks,” he said reluctantly.
“And that you let Mommy know if you’re uncomfortable,” she added. “Right?”
He shifted, embarrassed beyond words. “But I just… I thought maybe I could—”
Samantha rose gracefully, crossing to him. She placed her hands on his arms, steadying him before he could move further. “No guessing, no maybe,” she said softly but firmly. “That’s part of the rule. You don’t need to try. I’ll take care of it.”
The authority in her voice made him shrink, but at the same time… something eased inside him too. He didn’t have to debate with himself, didn’t have to risk humiliation by failing. She had decided for him.
“But…” he tried weakly.
“No buts.” She gave him a small smile, though her tone stayed firm. “You’re wearing your protection for a reason. Let it do its job. That’s what Mommy’s Rules are here for.”
Daniel’s cheeks flamed, but he let her guide him back down to the couch. The moment he sank into the cushions again, shame washed over him—but so did a strange, reluctant relief.
The hours drifted by, punctuated with small reminders of how little control he held now.
When Samantha brought him a glass of juice, she reminded him gently, “Slow sips, sweetheart. We don’t want your tummy upset.”
When he shifted uncomfortably while sitting on the floor, she knelt beside him, pressing two fingers against the padding at his hip with practiced ease. “Still fine for now,” she announced, leaving him red-faced.
And when he looked longingly toward the bathroom door out of habit, she only shook her head softly. “Don’t worry about it, Daniel. Remember the rules.”
Each time, the words chipped away at his pride, but also wrapped him in the cocoon of her steady presence.
By early afternoon, Samantha suggested a quiet activity.
“How about we sit at the table and go over a few things?” she asked, her tone almost playful.
Daniel blinked warily. “What kind of things?”
“Just little notes,” she said lightly. “We can think of them as reminders for Mommy’s Rules. That way there’s no confusion.”
He groaned. “You’re writing them down?”
“Not in stone,” Samantha teased. “Just a little list. Something we can add to or adjust. Doesn’t that sound fairer than me springing them on you one by one?”
Daniel sighed, knowing he was cornered. “I guess.”
They moved to the table, Samantha bringing along a notepad and pen. She sat across from him, her posture calm and inviting.
“All right,” she began. “So far we’ve got two: Mommy does the checks morning and night, and you tell Mommy if you’re uncomfortable. We already agreed on those. Easy, right?”
Daniel shrugged, muttering, “I guess so.”
Samantha smiled patiently and jotted them down. “Now, I think we should add one more today. Nothing too big.”
Daniel’s stomach flipped. “What kind?”
“Just this,” she said, her eyes steady on his. “Mommy decides bathroom use. No exceptions. If you feel the need, you tell me. If I say you use your diaper, then that’s what happens. If I say I’ll help you, then I’ll help you. But you don’t go on your own anymore. Clear?”
Daniel’s pulse hammered in his ears. “That’s… that’s a lot,” he stammered.
“It’s just being honest about what’s already happening,” Samantha said calmly. “You’ve been struggling. This way, you don’t have to worry or feel guilty about accidents. It’s simply Mommy’s decision.”
His cheeks burned scarlet. Every part of him wanted to say no, to fight it—but the memory of her stopping him earlier, the relief of not having to decide, was still fresh.
After a long silence, he whispered, “…Okay.”
Samantha’s face softened into a smile. She reached across the table, brushing her fingers against his hand. “Good boy.”
The praise made his chest ache, equal parts humiliation and warmth.
Later that afternoon, as he sat on the couch once again, Daniel caught himself turning the phrase over and over in his head: Mommy’s Rules.
The words made him cringe. But they also gave shape to what was happening between them, gave a frame to the chaos he felt inside.
He hated that part of him felt safer for it.
he house had settled into a steady afternoon hush. Outside, faint birdsong floated through the open crack of the window, and the gentle hum of distant traffic was like a backdrop to their quiet rhythm. Inside, the living room carried the same lavender scent from the morning, the candle Samantha had lit still flickering on the coffee table.
Daniel sat curled into the corner of the couch, arms crossed tight against his chest. The blanket he had pulled around himself earlier had slipped halfway down, but he didn’t adjust it. He felt exposed in a way he couldn’t shake, even though he was dressed just like before.
It wasn’t the clothes. It was the rules.
They were written down now, etched in Samantha’s neat handwriting on the notepad still sitting on the dining table. He hadn’t looked at it since they’d finished, but he could see it in his mind: three simple lines that stripped away pieces of his independence.
Mommy does the checks. You tell Mommy if you’re uncomfortable. Mommy decides bathroom use.
His chest tightened every time he thought about it.
When Samantha walked back into the room, a glass of water in one hand and a plate with apple slices in the other, Daniel straightened reflexively, trying to look casual.
“Here we go,” she said warmly, setting the plate down on the coffee table before offering him the glass. “You’ve been good about staying hydrated today.”
Daniel took it hesitantly. “Thanks,” he muttered, his voice subdued. He sipped, more to avoid her gaze than out of thirst.
Samantha sat beside him, folding one leg underneath her. She picked up an apple slice, bit into it, and then set the plate closer to him. “Go on,” she encouraged softly. “Have some.”
He picked up a slice reluctantly. It felt childish somehow, her handing him snacks, reminding him to drink. He chewed quietly, his mind a tangle.
After a long pause, Samantha tilted her head, studying him. “You’ve been quiet,” she observed gently. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”
Daniel stiffened. “Nothing.”
Her brow lifted slightly, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “You forget, I know you better than that.” She brushed a crumb from her fingers and let her hand rest on his arm. “Tell me.”
He swallowed hard. The words pressed at his throat, stubborn and heavy. “…It just feels weird. Having rules like that. Written down. Like…”
“Like what?” she prompted softly.
His voice dropped to almost a whisper. “Like I’m not really an adult anymore.”
The silence that followed was unbearable. He braced himself for teasing, or for her to dismiss it with a joke. But Samantha didn’t. She shifted closer, her expression calm, and placed her hand gently against his cheek.
“Sweetheart,” she said, her tone low and tender, “being cared for doesn’t make you less of a man. It doesn’t erase who you are. It just means you don’t have to hold yourself together all the time.”
His throat tightened. “But it feels… babyish.”
Her thumb brushed against his skin, soothing. “I know it feels that way. And I won’t pretend it isn’t different. But babyish isn’t the same as bad. Think about this morning. Wasn’t it a relief, not having to worry about when or if you’d make it in time?”
He clenched his jaw, but he couldn’t deny it. The memory of being stopped before his bathroom attempt, of her telling him firmly that the decision wasn’t his anymore—he had burned with humiliation, yes. But underneath, there had been relief, too.
Daniel looked down, ashamed. “…I guess.”
Samantha smiled softly. “That’s why we call them Mommy’s Rules. They’re here to take away the stress. You’ve been living with so much worry and embarrassment, honey. Letting me guide things means you can just… be. Just rest.”
He felt his chest ache, both from the comfort in her words and from the sting of admitting how much he needed it.
Later that afternoon, Samantha’s rules were tested again, though in the quietest of ways.
Daniel had been sitting on the rug near the coffee table, absently fiddling with the corner of the blanket, while Samantha read a book on the couch. The silence was companionable, but his bladder stirred again, that subtle pressure he hated recognizing. His instinct was immediate: stand, walk away, fix it privately.
But he froze halfway through the thought, remembering the notepad on the dining table. Remembering her voice: No exceptions. You tell me. I’ll decide.
Daniel’s face burned. He stayed where he was, shifting uncomfortably, fighting the urge to sneak off. He couldn’t. Not anymore.
The rustle of a page turning made him glance up. Samantha’s eyes were already on him. She set the book aside, her smile faint but knowing. “Something the matter, sweetheart?”
Daniel’s ears turned red. “…No,” he muttered quickly, staring at the rug.
She leaned forward, her tone calm but firm. “Daniel. Remember what we agreed.”
His chest tightened. He wanted to lie, to pretend nothing was wrong. But her steady gaze undid him. After a long silence, he mumbled, “I… kind of need to go.”
Her expression softened instantly, her voice quiet but warm. “Thank you for telling me. That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do.”
Daniel’s stomach flipped. “So…?”
Samantha reached down, pressing two fingers gently against the padding at his hip. Her touch was practiced, confident, maternal. After a moment, she nodded. “You’re fine for now. You don’t need to do anything. Just relax and let it happen when it needs to.”
Daniel’s face burned so hot he thought he might ignite. She was telling him to use his diaper. Plain and simple.
“I… I don’t…” His voice cracked. “I can’t just—”
“Yes, you can,” Samantha said softly, brushing her hand over his hair. “That’s the whole point. You don’t need to fight it. You’re protected, and I’m here to make sure you’re cared for. No stress, no rushing, no accidents to be ashamed of.”
He trembled, half with humiliation, half with the strange weight of her certainty. The part of him that clung to control screamed at the idea. But another part—the tired, scared, secretly relieved part—leaned into her words like a lifeline.
Daniel looked down, whispering, “…Feels wrong.”
Her hand cupped his chin, tilting his gaze back up to her. “It only feels wrong because you’re used to carrying the responsibility by yourself. But that responsibility isn’t yours anymore. It’s mine. That’s Mommy’s Rule.”
The word—Mommy—made his stomach twist, but also left him strangely soothed.
The rest of the afternoon unfolded in small, intimate rhythms. Samantha offered him snacks, reminded him to sip water, checked him once without asking, and praised him gently when he obeyed her prompts without protest.
Each moment scraped against his pride, but at the same time, each one eased the constant tension he carried. For the first time in weeks, he wasn’t on edge about when the next accident would come. He wasn’t guarding himself against failure. He was simply being cared for.
And though he hated to admit it, that was almost more unnerving than the humiliation itself.
By the time the sun began to dip lower, filling the living room with gold, Daniel sat curled once again against Samantha’s side on the couch. His head rested lightly against her shoulder, her arm wrapped around him in a loose, protective hold.
“You did really well today,” Samantha murmured into his hair. “You followed Mommy’s Rules without fighting me. That makes me so proud of you.”
Daniel’s chest ached at the praise. He wanted to argue, to downplay it—but the warmth in her voice, the steady comfort of her arm, made the words stick in his throat.
Instead, he whispered, “It’s still hard.”
“I know,” she said softly, kissing the top of his head. “But you’re not doing it alone anymore. That’s what matters.”
Her words lingered as the light faded, wrapping around him like the blanket still pooled in his lap.
And though Daniel still burned with humiliation at every reminder of the rules, he couldn’t deny that part of him—some quiet, hidden part—was grateful for them, too.
The sky outside had softened into twilight, lavender and gold spilling across the living room carpet in long rectangles of fading light. Daniel hadn’t moved from the couch in nearly an hour. He sat half-curled with the blanket draped around his legs, his head resting against the cushion, eyes fixed on nothing.
Samantha was in the kitchen tidying up the remains of dinner, humming to herself, letting the clink of dishes and the low rush of the faucet fill the air. The background noise was comforting in its own way. Too comforting, maybe.
Daniel let his eyes drift closed. His mind wouldn’t quiet.
It’s real now.
That thought circled like a bird overhead, swooping in closer every time he tried to push it away. The rules weren’t just talk anymore. They’d spent the day living them, and he hadn’t broken them. Not once. Every time he’d tried to fight back—stubborn silence, squirming hesitation—Samantha had looked at him with that calm patience that left him cornered.
And every time… he’d given in.
He didn’t like the truth of it. But he couldn’t ignore the weight in his chest that came with remembering how her hand had rested against his hair, how her voice had softened when she’d praised him. Humiliation burned, yes—but there had been comfort, too. A safety he hadn’t felt in weeks.
Daniel pulled the blanket tighter. He hated how much his body leaned into that comfort. It was like standing with one foot on either side of a line, torn between clinging to pride and sinking into relief.
“Hey, sleepyhead.”
Daniel startled, his eyes flying open. Samantha had come back into the living room, drying her hands on a towel. Her smile was warm, easy, and impossibly steady.
“You looked miles away,” she teased, sitting down beside him.
Daniel shifted. “Just thinking.”
Her brow arched lightly. “Want to tell me about it?”
He shook his head, too fast. “…Not really.”
Samantha didn’t push. She just tucked the towel aside, smoothed the blanket over his lap, and leaned against him. “That’s okay. You don’t always have to explain. But you know you can.”
Daniel bit the inside of his cheek. He almost said no, I can’t, but the truth pressed at him too tightly. Instead, he whispered, “It just feels weird. All of it. The rules, today, letting you decide everything.”
Samantha’s arm wrapped gently around his shoulders, pulling him closer until his head rested against her. “I know it feels strange. It’s a change. But sweetheart, you don’t have to wrestle with it alone. That’s why the rules are there. To take the weight off your shoulders.”
He shut his eyes. “…Feels like it’s just putting me in diapers more.”
Her hand stroked through his hair, calm, rhythmic. “That’s part of it, yes. But it’s not a punishment. It’s care. You don’t have to carry the pressure of being in control all the time. You just need to be honest with me, and trust me to keep you safe.”
The word—safe—lodged itself in his chest, heavy and painful. He wanted to laugh it off, make a joke about being a grown man who didn’t need safety. But the memory of near-accidents, the sharp panic of public close calls, told him otherwise.
Later, when the dishes were done and the last light of day slipped away, Samantha stood, stretching. “Alright, mister,” she said gently, “time to start winding down.”
Daniel blinked. “…It’s not even nine yet.”
Her smile turned playful, though her voice stayed steady. “All the more reason. Early bedtime is part of keeping your body and mind rested. You’ve had a big day, and I want you calm and comfortable tonight.”
He flushed. “Early bedtime? That’s… that’s for kids.”
She leaned down, brushing a kiss to his temple. “And for you, sweetheart. Tonight, it’s what you need.”
Daniel groaned softly, but when she offered her hand, he took it. His legs felt heavy as she guided him down the hall, the blanket trailing behind him like a child’s cape.
In the bedroom, Samantha moved with practiced ease. She tugged open a drawer, pulling out soft pajama bottoms patterned with simple stripes. They looked ordinary enough, but in Daniel’s mind, they might as well have been footed pajamas.
“Go on,” she said warmly. “Let’s get you changed for the night.”
Daniel hesitated, heat rising in his chest. But Samantha’s expectant look left him little room. He sighed, stepping out of his clothes. She guided him through the routine—checking him with quiet thoroughness, nodding in approval at the state of his padding, then helping him into the pajamas.
“There,” she murmured, smoothing the fabric over his hips. “Snug and comfy. Doesn’t that feel better?”
Daniel swallowed. “…I guess.”
Her smile softened. She drew him close, kissing the top of his head. “You don’t need to pretend. I can see the tension leaving your shoulders.”
He hated how true it was. The fight was still in him, but exhaustion dulled it.
By the time he was tucked under the blankets, the room lit only by the glow of the bedside lamp, Daniel felt folded into something both unbearable and strangely safe. Samantha sat on the edge of the bed, brushing her hand over his arm.
“You did so well today,” she whispered. “Following Mommy’s Rules, trusting me. I’m proud of you.”
Daniel’s throat tightened. He wanted to argue, but the words slipped away. All he could manage was a quiet, “It’s still hard.”
Her hand lingered. “I know, baby. But that’s why I’m here. You don’t have to carry it alone anymore.”
Her words wrapped around him like the blanket itself, warm and inescapable.
As Samantha clicked off the lamp and settled beside him, Daniel closed his eyes, caught in the same paradox he’d been circling all day: the sting of humiliation bound tightly with the strange, undeniable comfort of surrender.
And though he drifted reluctantly toward sleep, his last thought was the one he kept avoiding.
Maybe I really do need this.
The End of Mommy Knows Best – Chapter Sixteen – Mommy’s Rules
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