My mom opened the door, her expression a mix of annoyance and relief as she pulled me into one of her bone-crushing hugs. Her curly hair was pulled back into a bun, a telltale sign that she had been busy baking, one of her favorite pastimes.
I glanced eagerly at the kitchen counter, where the tantalizing aroma of freshly baked chocolate mocha cake filled the air. My mouth watered at the sight of the cake, its surface adorned with a layer of decadent icing.
But before I could reach for a knife to cut myself a slice, my mom slapped my hand away, her expression stern.
"Mom!" I protested, feigning innocence, though I knew exactly why she was upset.
"That's for ignoring me the entire week!" she fumed, her tone leaving no room for argument.
"Mom, I haven't been ignoring you. I've made sure
