my parent's idea not mine

She ran her fingers over the delicate stitching on the fabric. The gold thread shone in such a brilliant way that her eyes began to water. Off in the corner of her room she heard the sound of her kwami stirring.

“Marinette?” her soft voice called from her little bed.

Marinette didn’t say a word. She stared blankly down at the fabric as she read the embroidered words over and over again.

Baby Brother

Baby Brother

Baby Brother

How those words burned into her eyes.

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