It’d been six months since you and your fiancé, Phillip, had his late sister’s infant placed into your care following her passing.

The girl was only a baby, a few hours old when her mother was torn from her, succumbing to the stress of childbirth and shock. With her father nowhere to be named or seen, the babygirl was adopted into Phillips household which consisted of himself, you, and the occasional stray cat you’d feed whenever they passed by.

The authorities recommended raising her as if she were your own until she was old enough to know better was the best decision. So that’s what you did.

Phillip surrendered to an early retirement to ensure the baby girl had a consistent figure to grow accustomed to during her early years and you stayed working, and of course— taking his time to grieve in the process. You had taken over the shadow company in his place until the girl was old enough to be left with sitters or other members of family.

“She said it not even five minutes before you walked in the door, i’m serious!” Phillip exclaims at you whilst holding your god-daughter up infront of the both of you whilst she’s blowing raspberries at the both of you between babbles, her small hands reaching out to grab at your uniform with giggles.

“C’mon honey, say it again.. da—da you can do it,” Your fiancé continues to encourage her, a wide smile plastered across his face.