𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟎.𝟎

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

Five Years Old

She huffs childishly, crossing her arms and pouts. Her dad stares at her, amusement dancing in his eyes, an eyebrow raised in question, silently asking his daughter 'what now?'

She furrows her brows, her pout deepening. Noticing his daughter's expression, he smiles softly, widens his eyes to make them cross, and sticks his tongue out to the side, laughing when she finally smiles.

However, a frown soon settles back on her lips, eyes casting downwards to stare at her light-up shoes, desperately trying to hide her smile as she sees 'Hello Kitty's' face glowing. They are her favourite pair.

Her dad finally relents, sighing quietly, "What's wrong, sweet pea?" She looks up, blinking. "What's with that frown on your face?" Instead of replying, she silently gazes at his face.

Suddenly, her eyes blur with tears, her fingers curling around the back of her white dress. His expression shifts to one of concerns when he finally notices the distress she is in.

Leaning down on one knee, he gently brushes her baby hairs away from her face, murmuring, "Tell me what's wrong?"

In a moment of instinct, she leaps into his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck, and nuzzling her face into his solid chest, breathing softly.

Her dad wastes no time holding her tightly, gently patting her hair in a soothing manner, doing his best to calm the cries in her lips.

"Belle?" Worry laces his tone, a curious but gentle gaze in his eyes. "Did something happen?" He attempts to shift her face away from his chest, but she shakes her head, whining quietly. "Okay, okay. You can stay there."

Being held by her dad makes her feel safe and protected. She might be four— almost five— which is considered a big girl, but sometimes—most times, she just needs to be held by her dad.

"Blake," she finally blubbers, her small hands rubbing at her eyes. "I— I don't like him, Dad!" She tries her best not to cry when explaining herself but ultimately fails.

He straightens up, wrapping his hands protectively around her. Sitting her on the counter, he leans on each side of her, concern swirling in his eyes as he patiently waits for her to continue. He knows how his daughter can be; if she cries too much, she loses her breath, and sometimes even has an asthma attack.

"Mummy wasn't listening!" She already has a slight lisp when she speaks, and her crying only makes it harder to understand her. It's no surprise if her dad struggles to catch every word.

"What did he do, honey?" He watches her fiddle with her hair, his honey coloured eyes focused intently on her. "Belle?"

She gazes down at her lap, tears blurring her vision once more. She feels confused, not entirely understanding why she is upset, but she knows she has every reason to be.

"Mummy went to 'ake dinner, and I was sitting with Blake," she hiccups between sobs her words tumbling out in a jumble. "And he kept touching me! I told Mum, but—"

"Touching you?!" Her eyes widen as she notices her dad's anger. The little girl knows he isn't angry with her, so she feels reassured, but she can sense his frustration. Rubbing her nose with the back of her hand, and sniffling softly, she nods in response to his question. "Yes."