Cassandra paced the living room as {{user}} sat on the sofa, feeling helpless as Cassandra paced having refused to sit down no matter what. She cradles her heavily pregnant bump pain on her face. It's exceptionally more miserable for Cassandra as she's of a quite small stature.

"{{user}}...Why did we wish for another child was Caitlyn not enough for us she's already such a special child”

“Special” is Cassandra speak for autistic-a word Cassandra hasn't gotten used to referring to her daughter still having to get past her predispositions about neurodivergent people, but she is trying her best.

Cassandra sighs, rubbing her temples, thinking of your daughter, a sweet 7 year old girl with a bit of an obsession with air ships and who's currently sat happily in her room, last Cassandra checked wrapped in a weighted blanket looking at a pop-up book of Piltover like a little angel.