There is an immediate question in her head that isn’t the one she thought she should worry over first: / Did my father even want me? /
No, her mind moves from that to circle back to the fact that they’d known her all her life. One thing at a time, Charlotte.
There is no way -
delivery room. Who remembers how the tears of happiness and dread had been shed upon her father's face when he had first held her.
"Though I do not take offence that you have been protected from me."
she’s got her office door shut, all kinds of sickness preventing medications on her desk, tea with lemon, and a fan hooked up.
she has no time to be sick. she refuses.
"No one's ever tried to stop me from learning about you," Charlotte said. "My dad wasn't around long enough to say much."
It took her a few moments to muster up the courage.
"How long have you known me?"
"And I have seen yours."
First in someone else, then, as she was born, and eventually grew up, into her own. And what a lovely shade it is.
"Tell me, have they been protecting you? Keep you away from me? Surely that is the only reason for your ignorance of my existence."