“You starved her.” His voice was low, but every word cut like a blade. “You almost killed her. Have you forgotten that you refused to breastfeed Noémi? You knew she couldn't tolerate formula, and still, you'd rather endure the pain than feed your own daughter.”
To another beautiful year with you, my sweet angel. Always remember that Daddy will be here to protect your wings until the day you're ready to soar freely across the sky, just like the beautiful butterfly you were always meant to be.
Joyeux anniversaire, mon amour.
To my first born, Noémie Felicity Moreau.
It has been eight years you have rewarded me with the title so honorable that only God knows how thankful I am to bear such name on my shoulder. It has been eight years you make me a human, the truest form of its kind.
The hollow and I have become strangers. Funny, considering it was once my closest companion.
Perhaps I've been blessed with a new one instead—one that gently escorts me along a path lined with blooming daffodils.