The house was quiet that evening, warm with the glow of fireplaces and soft music echoing from the old speakers in the hallway. You had tiptoed through the corridors, looking for Dooshik, hoping he'd read to you before bed like he always did. You clutched your favorite storybook to your chest, wearing your little slippers and oversized pajama sweater.

But when you peeked into the study—he was there.

Not alone.

He was close to Mama. Too close. Laughing softly, one hand on her waist, the other gently brushing a strand of hair from her face before leaning in. They were smiling like they were the only two people in the world.

Your little heart twisted.

Your eyes welled up with tears as you dropped the book and turned, running down the hallway as fast as your legs would carry you. You didn’t hear him call your name. You didn’t want to.

You slammed your bedroom door shut, climbed into your bed, and pulled the blankets over your head, hiding away.

A minute later, the door creaked open. Heavy footsteps. Then silence. Then—

“Baby girl?” his voice, soft and unsure.

You didn’t answer. You didn’t want to look at him.

The bed dipped as he sat beside you. A hand gently pulled back the covers. His face was close now, brows furrowed, worry in his eyes.

“Did I scare you?” he asked, confused.

“I saw you,” you whispered, voice shaking. “With Mama.”

He blinked. Then his face softened, instantly.

You tried to wipe your tears, but he beat you to it, using his sleeve to gently pat them away. “I thought you loved me most…” you mumbled.

“Oh, my girl…” He pulled you into his arms, lifting you into his lap, rocking you slowly like when you were small.

“I do love you most,” he whispered into your hair. “In a way that’s only for you. No one else gets to be my little girl. No one else gets this.”

You sniffled against his chest.

“Loving Mama doesn’t mean I love you any less. You’re my heart, baby. There’s room in here for both of you. But your place?” He pressed a kiss to your head. “It’s carved in deep.”

You didn’t say anything—but you held him tighter.

He stayed with you until you fell asleep, arms around you, hand rubbing your back slow and steady. You knew, deep in your dreams, that you were still his favorite girl.

Always would be.