Daddy's Precious Little Girl

I need to know.

Franklin's POV

The weekend had been surprisingly... good. I wouldn't have expected to enjoy something like the picnic, but it had worked wonders for Marcy and me. She'd laughed more in the past two days than I'd heard from her in weeks, and I found myself smiling more too. It felt like we were finally becoming the team I'd always pretended we were.

Now, after breakfast, I sat at my desk finishing up the report on the picnic while Marcy was sprawled on the couch, fully immersed in one of her superhero movies. Her giggles and gasps filled the dorm as the action unfolded on the screen. I glanced at her every now and then, my heart warming at how carefree she looked.

"Take that, bad guy!" she shouted, punching the air as her favorite hero landed a kick on the villain. Her legs swung off the couch, and I shook my head with an amused chuckle.

"Marcy, careful," I warned gently. "Don't get too carried away."

"Uh-huh!" she said distractedly, her eyes glued to the screen.

I turned my attention back to my report, confident she was fine, but the sudden thud and cry of pain that followed had me out of my chair in seconds.

"Marcy?" I called, rushing to the couch. She was sitting on the floor, clutching her ankle, tears streaming down her face.

"It hurts!" she wailed, her voice breaking my heart.

"What happened?" I asked, kneeling down beside her and gently pulling her hands away to check her ankle. It was already starting to swell.

"I—I was trying to do the kick," she hiccupped, pointing at the screen where her superhero was mid-action. "But I fell."

I sighed, scooping her up into my arms. "Alright, let's get you to the infirmary."

She buried her face in my chest, her little body trembling with sobs as I carried her out of the dorm. My heart ached at how small and vulnerable she felt in my arms.

When we arrived at the infirmary, the nurse took one look at Marcy's swollen ankle and ordered an x-ray to check for fractures. The challenge now was calming her down enough to get through it.

"No, no, no!" she cried, clinging to me tightly as the nurse tried to position her. "It's gonna hurt!"

"Marcy," I said softly, brushing her hair out of her tear-streaked face. "It won't hurt, I promise. They're just taking a picture of your ankle to make sure it's okay."

Her sobs continued, her little hands gripping my shirt like a lifeline. "I don't want to," she whimpered.

I sighed, sitting down with her in my lap and rocking her gently. "Sweetheart, I need you to be brave for me, okay? I'm right here. I won't let anything happen to you."

She sniffled, her big, tearful eyes meeting mine. And then, in the softest voice I'd ever heard, she whispered, "Daddy?"

The word hit me like a bolt of lightning, stunning me into silence for a moment. Her gaze searched mine, hesitant and unsure, and I felt something deep in my chest shift.

"Yes, Marcy," I said softly, my voice thick with emotion. "I'm here, sweetheart. Daddy's got you."

Her little body relaxed against me, her tears slowing as she rested her head on my shoulder. The nurse seized the opportunity to finish positioning her ankle for the x-ray, and this time, Marcy didn't fight.

As the machine whirred to life, I held her close, whispering reassurances in her ear. "You're so brave, sweetheart. Daddy's so proud of you."

The words felt natural, like they'd always been there, waiting to be said. And when Marcy smiled up at me, her tears replaced by a tiny spark of trust, I knew this moment had changed everything.