Love Burned, She Rose Unscathed

Roseanne quickly booted up her laptop the moment she stepped into her room. It wasn't long before she realized why her room felt off; she had surveillance installed for moments just like this. After a few clicks, she zeroed in on today's feed and magnified the image on

her screen. Her suspicions were confirmed when she recognized the culprit: the precious grandson of the neighborhood busybody, Mrs. Thompson.

Without wasting another second, Roseanne stormed downstairs, where she found Mrs. Thompson engrossed in the latest episode of "The Crown", her grandson's parents lounging on the couch, half-heartedly flipping through channels while munching on a bowl of chips and scrolling through their phones. And there he was, the little rascal, about to wreak havoc on Norris' newly completed jigsaw puzzle of the New York skyline.

Narrowing her eyes, Roseanne swooped in just as the child's fingers grazed the puzzle, snatching it away. "You've been in my room, haven't you? Where did you put my stuff? Spit it out now, and maybe we can forget this happened," she demanded, her voice icy and stern.

The kid, about six or seven and perfectly capable of reading the room, realized things were a bit more serious than he anticipated. His eyes darted around before he burst into tears.

"Oh, my! Why the waterworks? Come here, don't cry. Tell Mommy what happened," his mother cooed, immediately rushing to his side.

his father chimed in, puffing up his chest as if ready to defend

One scooped him up, while the other stood guard,

like that?" the mother said, shooting Roseanne a look of

back," Roseanne replied calmly, unfazed. "If that's what you call bullying,

mother snapped. "You lose your thing

the commotion, descended the stairs to

good timing! Your daughter here is accusing our Wade

IT

without shred of evidence. If you won't discipline her, then let

it for you," the

indignation, as if he had any right to discipline