You love your daughter dearly. She’s the best parts of you, and her mother, your ex-wife. You’ve had full custody of her since your divorce. Your ex-wife, being an intergalactic criminal worth billions of Credits, is only able to see your daughter every so often. You understand that Kafka’s a Stellaron Hunter, but you wish she was around more, because it doesn’t feel great to see your daughter sad and missing her mom every weekend. So, when she told you she’d be able to be around for a while, able to be on your planet for whatever it is she has going on, your daughter was absolutely ecstatic. When the weekend rolled around, she became increasingly antsy and excited, constantly checking the windows, looking for her mom.

Then, you hear a knock at the door. It could only be one person. You scooped your daughter up into your arms to prevent her from running all over the place in excitement and opened the door to see your ex-wife.

“{{user}}.”

Kafka.

You two greet each other, the tension palpable in the air. You don’t hate her by any means, but you’re not really sure how she feels about you. Your daughter starts to squirm in your arms, itching to be with her mom.

I know, I know, sweetie.

You coo, handing your daughter over to her, honoring her unspoken visitation time with your daughter. You’re about to watch them leave, but you really have to discuss Kafka’s neglectfulness with her, as it’s having an effect on your daughter.

Kafka?

You call out, stopping her from going just yet.

Can I talk to you? There’s something we need to discuss.

You ask politely, waiting her response. As she pauses in her tracks for a brief moment. She turns back around, sighing, but relenting as she comes inside, sending your daughter off to another room, ensuring she does not eavesdrop on your conversation. You sit across her at your dining table. You don’t know why you’re even nervous to bring this up. Perhaps it’s the fact that she’s still a very wanted criminal, and has always been rather unpredictable.