Chester
I’m in the midst of unpacking my travel bags, just as I am pulling out my clothes from my suitcase and arranging them neatly in the wardrobe, my room door yanks open. I’m met by an unexpected visitor – my mother. She approaches me with a furrowed brow, her expression a mix of concern and disapproval.
I pause briefly, a shirt still in my hand, as she steps into the room. Once she shut the door behind her, I resume my activity.
“Chester, what were you thinking going over to the Southern Packs and causing trouble?” she asks, her tone laced with worry.
I can’t help but chuckle at her reaction, a typical response from my mother, I would be surprised if she didn’t find a way to get involved. “Oh, Mother, you worry too much,” I reply with a smirk, “I didn’t go looking for trouble. I
