Billie Eilish and her daughter imagines

Amelia's Adoption and the Journey to Safety part 3

Billie's Point of View

The soft light of morning filtered through the curtains, casting a golden hue over the bedroom. I stirred slowly, feeling the warmth of Amelia nestled against me. For a moment, I just lay there, holding her close, listening to her soft breathing and watching the rise and fall of her tiny chest. It was peaceful, a world apart from the panic of the night before.

As I shifted slightly, Amelia stirred in her sleep. She stretched her small arms, making the tiniest of noises as her eyes fluttered open. She blinked groggily, still half-asleep, and looked up at me, her little face framed by a mess of tangled curls. Her pacifier had fallen to the side during the night, and her lips were parted slightly in that innocent way only children have.

"Mmm... Mama?" she mumbled, her voice quiet and scratchy from sleep.

My heart skipped a beat. Hearing her call me "Mama" again, and this time so naturally, filled me with a sense of joy I couldn't quite put into words. I smiled down at her and stroked her hair, tucking a stray curl behind her ear.

"Good morning, sweetheart," I whispered softly, my voice thick with emotion. "Did you sleep okay?"

She blinked a few times, her eyes still heavy with sleep, and nodded. "Mmm, yeah..." she murmured, though her words were slurred and barely understandable. She shifted in my arms, instinctively snuggling closer.

I held her a little tighter, savoring the moment. After last night's nightmare, seeing her so calm and comfortable now was a relief. She seemed more at ease this morning, less anxious, and it was as if something had clicked for her during the night—a sense of safety, maybe.

"I think it's time we get up, don't you think?" I asked, brushing her cheek with my thumb. "We've got a big day ahead of us, baby."

Amelia yawned, her pacifier still clutched in one hand. She shifted, rubbing her eyes with her tiny fists, and then glanced up at me, her expression uncertain.

"Mama..." she said again, more clearly this time, though her pronunciation was still off. "Milky?"

I smiled down at her, my heart swelling with love. "Of course, sweetie," I whispered. "Let's get comfy, okay?"

She nodded, her eyes brightening a little as she sat up slowly in my arms. I adjusted myself on the bed, pulling her close again, and lifted up my shirt. She hesitated for a moment, her little hands resting on my chest, but after a reassuring nod from me, she latched on, her soft suckling filling the quiet room.

I stroked her hair as she nursed, feeling the familiar warmth of her small body pressed against mine. There was something incredibly soothing about these moments—her need for comfort, the trust she was placing in me. It felt so natural, like we had known each other far longer than just a few days.

She closed her eyes again, her fingers brushing my skin gently as she nursed. Her small, contented sighs melted away any lingering worries I had. She was finally feeling safe with me, and that was all I had ever wanted.

"You're doing so good, Amelia," I whispered softly, my voice barely more than a breath. "Mama's so proud of you."

She looked up at me briefly, her big eyes filled with a kind of trust I hadn't seen before. She didn't say anything, but her tiny hand reached up, touching my cheek lightly as if to confirm that I was still there, that I wasn't going anywhere.

After a while, she pulled away, her lips still slightly parted as she let out a soft yawn. I carefully adjusted her in my arms and smiled down at her. "All done?" I asked.

Amelia nodded, resting her head against my chest, her little body fully relaxed. "All done, Mama," she said, her voice quiet but more confident than before.