A Secret Shattered in My Hands

I’ve been taking care of him for months now. I didn't know what to call it before, but recently he started calling me his Mommy. It feels... wrong somehow. Not just because we're both adults and it’s a roleplay, though that complicates things too. Mostly, it’s this nagging feeling inside whenever I hold him close or tuck him into bed with an extra blanket. It shouldn’t feel so natural, should it? We’re not actually related, there are no kids involved — just two consenting adults sharing a fantasy and finding unexpected comfort in it. But every time we do something like that, the line between make-believe and reality blurs dangerously close.