You were dinning at the table, the three of you. Emilie was playing with her food, putting it a bit everywhere.

« I would like Mimi to be my daughter. » Oscar suddenly said. Neither you nor Emilie understand because she already is Oscar’s daughter.

Well, not by blood. Emilie is the fruit of a r-word but Oscar saw her grow up. He was the one there for you, for the past three years.

« I mean, officially. » Oscar clarified.