It hadn’t been one single moment that made you worry about her vision. More a collection of tiny, quiet clues.

The way she sometimes reached for your face but missed by a few centimeters, her fingers brushing your cheek instead of the tip of your nose. The way she would turn her head toward your voice, but her eyes didn’t quite lock onto yours unless you were very close.

At first, you thought it was just baby clumsiness, the kind that’s sweet and harmless.

But then came the little hesitations, the extra blink when you brought a toy near, the way she squinted at bright shapes she used to laugh at, the way she crawled faster toward the sound of something rather than the sight of it.

You and Lando only admitted your worries out loud on the same day. She had been playing on the floor, babbling happily, when she tried to pick up her favorite stuffed animal lying right in front of her, and her hand closed on nothing but air.

She looked confused, almost startled, before leaning forward until her forehead practically touched it.

Lando silently met your eyes from across the room, his expression soft but serious, the kind that says he’d been noticing things too but didn’t want to scare you.

That evening, after she’d fallen asleep, you sat together on the couch, her baby monitor glowing between you. “Maybe we should get her eyes checked." You said.

And he nodded. That's how you ended up here.

You gently place your daughter on the small table at the optician’s. The surface is softly padded, but you stay close, one hand on her back, the other ready to catch her if she tries to fall backward.

Which she does, from time to time.

Lando stands right next to you, arms crossed, but with that watchful look he always has when it comes to her. He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his tension. She isn’t exactly fond of appointments like this.

She’s already shown it during her check-ups.

The optician smiles warmly. “Alright, little one. We’ll try this now.”

You nod and give your daughter a slightly more upright position. As the woman brings the tiny glasses up to her face, everything happens quickly.

Your daughter throws herself backward, grabs the glasses, and pulls them off her nose.

“Hey, it’s okay.” You murmur, gently taking her hands. She immediately clasps your thumbs.

“She’s quite a spirited little girl." The optician laughs and tries again.

Lando laughs. "Like father, like daughter."

This time, you’re prepared. You hold her hands, thumbs securely framed. Lando stands directly next to you, calm but alert, his gaze flicking between your daughter and the woman.

The optician carefully puts the glasses on again. Your daughter flinches, but this time she stays seated.

She blinks.

Once. Twice. Then she lifts her head.

Her eyes suddenly look so much bigger. She sees clearly for the first time in a long while.

She first looks at Lando, her gaze lingers. He chuckles softly and places a hand on the small of your back. “Hello, baby." He says.

Then she looks at you, and back to Lando. Then a quick glance at the optician, and back to you. It’s as if she’s truly seeing everyone for the first time, sorting out who’s who.

You just smile and support her with one hand on her back, the other letting her keep hold of your thumb.

She looks at Lando again, almost as if she’s just discovered his face anew. The woman steps a little to the side. “Looks like she’s accepting it." She says.

Your daughter sits completely still. A rare moment.

Then she squints briefly, as if she needs to decide what to do with all these new impressions.

Then it happens. First a tiny twitch at the corner of her mouth. Then a bigger one. And finally, a wide, warm smile that lights up her whole face.

A short, gluckering sound follows, her typical laugh when she’s completely overwhelmed and delighted at the same time.

Lando leans in slightly, his gaze impossibly soft, and she immediately stretches her arms toward him.

Daddy's girl. Absolutely. From the very beginning.