We see both of them suddenly turn serious.
His mom looks at him, eyes narrowing with playful intensity.
"Ready, honey?"
Draven nods, calm but focused. "Yeah... always."
They stare each other down like two seasoned rivals, locked in an age-old standoff.
Their right hands hover over their left palms—steady, poised.
For a second, everything goes still. The room holds its breath.
Draven glances at his mom, thinking:
> This is it. A 50/50 shot. Win, and I'm free. Lose... and I've gotta do what she said.
"I would say It's not all bad but come on—I'm a man. I've got pride. My pride won't let me I have to win.
They swing their arms in perfect sync and shout:
"Rock, Paper, Scissors!"
Their hands freeze midair—both revealed.
A beat of silence.
Then, Draven's lips curl into a smile.
Across from him, his mom grins wide, smug but sweet. "Aww… looks like you lose, honey."
Draven: rock.
Mom: paper.
He lets out a dramatic sigh, followed by a silly "chuckle."
"Yeah… I guess so."
She giggles, clearly savoring the moment.
"Since Mommy won… that means Mommy gets ALL the hugs and kisses now!"
He groans like it's the end of the world.
"Ugh—mom just don't go overboard, okay? I just got a haircut. Don't wanna get my hair all Messi."
She bursts out laughing.
He tries to hold a straight face—but fails.
A second later, they're both doubled over in full-blown laughter.
Not polite giggles. Not chuckles.
The real kind—loud, shameless, contagious.
As they laugh, Draven thinks:
> I lost. But weirdly… I don't feel bad.
Not even close.
Instead, I feel... happy. Like, really, really happy.
His mom, still grinning, wraps him up in a warm, unbreakable hug and plants a kiss on his forehead.
They stay like that a moment longer—wrapped in joy, laughter, and love.