Madison’s World Redux Season 3 Episode 49

Greg was still in Madison’s lap. 

He was surprised she had not come down harder on him for the slip. In front of the girls, in front of Cindy, he had called her Madison. Not Ms. Wessen. Not the title she expected when Cindy was present. Madison had noticed. Everyone had noticed. 

But she had let it pass. 

Mostly. 

Her fingers continued to move over him in slow, gentle strokes, little pets that eased across his back and shoulders. His body relaxed despite everything. He could feel her warmth radiating up from beneath him, through the fabric of her clothes, into his smaller body. Her fingers were warm too, careful in a way Madison did not always manage when she was distracted. 

Greg wanted not to enjoy it. 

He could see Cindy working in Evan’s lap. He knew she was tired. Humiliated. Angry. He knew every answer she typed was probably cutting into her in some way he could not fully understand from across the room. 

And still his body relaxed. 

That was the part he hated. 

The comfort was real. Madison’s hand was real. The affection in it was real too. It was not just control, not with him. Not always. Sometimes, like now, Madison was simply touching him because he was her dad and she loved him and this was the only safe way left to be physically affectionate. 

But Cindy was across the room doing homework for children. 

And there was nothing Greg could do or say that would change things. 

Madison was in charge here. 

Not completely. Not in every room. McKenzie had carved out her own space, her own rules, her own claim over his care. But in this living room, with her friends around her and Cindy in Evan’s lap, Madison’s authority filled the house. 

Greg knew tomorrow would be back to normal. 

Or something close to normal. 

McKenzie would go to school. She would have practice. She would move through her day with the confidence of someone who still belonged to the world at full size. Greg was not sure what that meant for him. Maybe she would leave him in the habitat in her room. Maybe she would bring him to Madison’s habitat. Maybe she would drop him off with Cindy before she left. 

He was going to have to ask. 

At the very least, he needed McKenzie to bring him to Cindy for part of the day. After today, he knew he needed to see his wife. Really see her. Not across the living room. Not through glances while Madison and her friends talked over them. 

He could call her. They could talk on the tablet. He could help her with the homework over video chat if Madison allowed it. But that would not be enough. 

Cindy would want to talk about this. 

No. 

Cindy would need to talk about this. 

And Greg was especially not looking forward to the clothes conversation. 

He knew Cindy had seen. 

She could not say anything here. Not like this. Not with Madison’s friends around, not while Evan held so much social power in the room, not while Cindy was trapped beneath everyone’s attention. 

But tomorrow, if McKenzie dropped him off in a full outfit, Cindy would say something. 

She would not be able to stop herself. 

Greg looked down at the clothing McKenzie had picked for him. It was comfortable. Well-made. Thoughtful in a way that had McKenzie written all over it. It made him feel more like himself, which was both comforting and dangerous. Because Cindy would see it as another dividing line. 

Greg had clothes. 

Greg had a nice habitat. 

Greg got Pizza Rolls. 

Greg got to sit in Madison’s lap and joke with her and sometimes even call her Madison if no one pushed too hard. 

Cindy got pellets. 

Homework. 

Tasks. 

Titles. 

Glass walls. 

Madison did have outfits for Cindy. Greg knew that. He had seen them. A few dresses. Some practical pieces. A couple of things Madison had bought because they were cute and then never used because Cindy had not “earned” them. Madison had taken him to dance competitions with Brooklyn before, dressed him up, shown him off in a way that embarrassed him but also made him feel included. 

Cindy had not been taken anywhere like that since the Harrington house incident. 

Greg knew how embarrassed Madison had been. 

Madison was a ranked Guardian. That mattered to her. Maybe more than she admitted. Cindy’s public behavior reflected on Madison, and after the Harrington debacle, it had become easier for Madison to keep Cindy home. Easier to let Cindy do tasks in the habitat. Easier to say Cindy was not ready. 

And maybe, on some level, easier to keep dreaming about the Little she had always wanted. 

Greg’s eyes drifted toward Madison’s face as she laughed at something Brooklyn said. 

Madison still wanted her dream Little. 

She did not talk about it as much as she used to, but he knew. Before he and Cindy became Littles, Madison had talked about it constantly. Not just any Little. Not an American Little who happened to be Japanese. Madison had been very specific. She wanted a Japanese Little around her age, fully Japanese, bilingual in Japanese and English. 

She had imagined everything. 

The outfits. 

The language practice. 

The videos they could make. 

The aesthetic of it, though Greg doubted Madison would have used that word back then. 

A Little who could be cute, useful, impressive, and hers. 

Greg had once treated it like another teenage obsession. Like when Madison got fixated on skincare routines, dance gear, or some new online trend that required accessories and an unreasonable amount of parental money. 

But now the dream felt different. 

Darker. 

Because Cindy was not that Little. 

Greg was not that Little either, but Madison did not seem to need him to be. With him, she wanted Dad. Smaller, dependent, more controllable, yes, but still Dad. With Cindy, Madison wanted something Cindy could not give her. A proper Little. A grateful Little. A Little who reflected well on her. 

And when Cindy failed to become that, Madison’s disappointment turned into rules. 

Greg shifted slightly in Madison’s lap. 

Madison’s fingers paused. “You okay, Dad?” 

He looked up at her. 

There it was again. 

That softness. 

The daughter who still wanted him at her dance competitions. The girl who still cared whether he smiled at her. The Guardian who could decide where he slept, what he ate, what he wore, and whether he got to see his wife. 

All of her in one face. 

“I’m okay,” Greg said. 

Madison studied him for a second. “You sure?” 

He nodded. “Just thinking.” 

“Dangerous.” 

He smiled faintly. “So I’ve been told.” 

Madison’s expression softened, and her fingers resumed their gentle motion over his back. 

Across the room, Cindy continued working. 

Greg looked toward her again. 

Tomorrow, he told himself. 

Tomorrow he would ask McKenzie. 

Tomorrow he would find a way to sit with Cindy, even if it was only for an hour. He would let her be angry. He would let her say what she needed to say. He would not defend Madison too quickly. He would not retreat into softness just because softness was easier. 

Cindy deserved that much. 

Even if he could give her nothing else. However, he didn’t actually know if McKenzie would even have an issue with him seeing Cindy. She never said staying in her room meant not seeing Cindy. The arrangement was still new and many things were unknown.  

Madison’s laughter rose above him, warm and bright, joining Brooklyn’s and Krysi’s and Ava’s. 

Greg sat in her lap, safe and small and loved. 

Across the room, Cindy sat with a tablet, useful and trapped. 

And Greg understood, with a hollow ache, that the same house was teaching them two very different ways to survive. 

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