[✔] ▼ 𝙵𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚑 𝙱𝚒𝚝𝚎 ▲ Miguel O'Hara x Reader▼ 𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝟷/ 𝟸

▸ SIXTEEN ◂

Your routine for the next few days consisted of dropping Gabriella off to school, playing stepmom and cleaning the house, taking her to soccer practice, moving in your things, and then coming home to cook another dinner. It was another repeating day after another. Time flew by now with Gabriella in your life, so before you knew it a week had already passed. 

Miguel even took you and Gabriella to another fancy dinner for your late two-month anniversary. (The 2 months was around the time Miguel discovered Gabriella, which was a week or two agor) It was the best night you have ever experienced, enjoying this special occasion with your dream family, the two you love most. 

Growing up, your Uncle Benjamin and Aunt Louise always followed this routine. You dreamed of sharing that kind of family with someone else, so you worked hard on your cooking skills. Especially in the dump you trained and lived in for a while, you tried to manage on your own and eat quality food.

At the dinner table, to which you told her the couch is not a place to properly eat, Gabriella randomly announced, "Oh! I just remembered! I have a soccer tournament in two weeks!"

Miguel's face lit up with her excitement, "That's great news, Chiquita. Do you know where it's gonna be?" (Little girl)

She takes another scoop of her food, "Well, I'm not sure. Permission slips are going to be handed out tomorrow."

"It's going to be a few cities over," you answer for him, "I met with the coach, and he told me it will be held at a stadium a few cities over."

He hums, focusing on his food, "That's most likely gonna be a day's trip. We'll probably have to drive there the day before."

Gabriella grows excited, "That sounds fun! We can spend the night at a hotel with the really soft white pillows."

You and Miguel laugh with her, "Exactly."

After dinner, you beckon Gabriella to go shower. Miguel was helping you put away the food and wash the dishes. As you scrubbed and rinsed, you put the plates and bowls into the dishwasher. Meanwhile, Miguel brought out some plastic containers and put the leftover food into the fridge.

Your mind was thinking about Gabriella's soccer tournament and what to pack for, but then that also leads to how many cities away it is, but then that also makes you wonder how big this world is . . . but then you begin to think of how complicated the multiverse is and just how many worlds there are . . . and then you remember your concern about forcing yourselves into this world, the same concern that Miguel keeps brushing off.

"You know, we're good at this." Miguel gives you a toothy grin.

"Miguel, I just don't like that we're doing this." You sigh, placing a plate in the dishwasher.

He grows quiet, snapping the plastic containers shut. You didn't dare to look at him, you knew he hated it when you talked like this. But you could not just brush off your worries time after time, you needed to make a plan, or at least talk it out with Miguel. The guilt and stress were eating away at you, not to mention you felt so out of place in this world. You didn't even look like your real self for goodness sake, you had to force yourself to fit in.

And it hurts you too, but you knew deep down this was wrong . . . as much as you wanted to believe that what you were doing was all good. Yes, you were preventing a child from a traumatic life with no parents, but you were also a fraud for doing it.

"When I saw him die trying to rescue an old woman from a thief, I knew he was a good man. And if I did nothing, Gabriella would not have deserved to experience something like that at her age, (y/n)." You can feel his unhappy gaze on you even with your back turned to him.