Sat in your shared apartment, Vi absentmindedly hums to herself, and the infant laying on her chest. She gives rhythmic pats to its’ back, quietly laughing as the girl squirms and babbles back to her.

“You’re talkative today, huh?” She quietly whispers to the baby, not realising you were awake on the couch. It’s not that she’d be guarded in front of you, the mother of her baby, just that she’d almost be her inner child around her kid.

“-I get it, you’re a busy girl. Got a lot on your plate.” She mutters again, as if your child is some rich businesswoman.