[No smut in prologue]
If you were told to describe a perfect suburban family, you would point your finger to the Dunphy house in your neighborhood. Even if you were blindfolded and spun a dozen times until you got dizzy, your finger would still point to that house.
Ron Dunphy was the man of the house (in literal meaning only though, his wife wore the pants in the family). Pretty successful real estate agent who made enough money to buy a large house in a posh neighborhood. In his late 30s, he had the looks your regular dads would sell their left nut for. He probably spent more time in the gym than all the men in his block. Buff and 6 feet 4, he would tower over his short wife and daughter. The contrast in size weirdly made sense though.
Rita Dunphy, high school sweetheart of her husband, was short, exactly 5 feet 2. But you couldn't say it did anything to downplay her hotness. Not a lot of women could sell the shortness so nicely. It's not a bug, It's a feature. With blonde hair, a sharp nose, and foxy eyes, a woman can't get any prettier. Her curves were hand-shaped by a skillful potter. You could not describe her curves with 3 numbers, only with poetry if you could write any. And the muscle mass that was lost because of her being short, was put on her chest. You know those moments while cooking when you would add salt to your pot and forget about that and add salt again by mistake? God cooked a dish by making her. She was the biology teacher in the local high school.
Talking about God's faults, if plagiarism was a crime in heaven, he would have made a short trip to his naughty son's dungeons. Rose Dunphy, turned 18 a few months ago, was a copy-paste of her mother in almost every feature. Comic accurate Gwen Stacy. If not for her unreal chest size, she could be the girl next door every guy would buy binoculars for. Though she looked like the Elisha Cuthbert version of a girl next door, she was pretty shy and timid. Any girl could rule the high school with a body like hers. But goddamn, she was shy. SHY with capital letters. Timid could be a better describer.
All was perfect in the Dunphy household. Good money. Big house. The only daughter is a high school senior. But a big worry loomed over the parents' minds lately. That was their daughter's future. If nothing went wrong, she was on the way to college the next year. But her being shy worried the parents too much about how she would adjust to her new life. She has a non-existent social life. No love interest. Very few friends, acquaintances actually. At her 18th birthday party, her mother tried to set her up with a son of her friend's. Rose actually somewhat liked him for a few days but freaked out when he tried to kiss her on a date. And completely ghosted him after that.
She also could never speak for herself. Always the pretty timid girl on the last bench of the class. Also not the sharpest tool in the shed. Well, she was book-smart. No one was asking her to be street smart, but she could be at least driveway smart. But no. Naive as she was, she was not ready for solo life. Her grandmother used to joke that she would be a lonely prude cat lady all her life, but her parents knew there were enough truths in it.
Ron and Rita tried their best to break her out of her shell. They even tried different psychologists but to no avail.
One Friday evening Ron and Rita were hanging out on the couch and watching Netflix. Rose was probably in her room buried in one of her romance novels whose heroines she would never try to imitate. Rita's phone rang from an unknown number. Ron could hear only her wife's part of the weird conversation and couldn't make out what the topic was.
"Yes, this is Rita Dunphy"
"How did you know about her?"
"What kind of name is it? Is this a joke?"
There was a long pause. The other person was explaining something, and Rita was only affirming with frequent "uh ah"s.
"Okay, weirdly it makes sense, I will say."
"Yeah, I am interested, anything to help her."
