Dreams and farmiliarity

"There, there," Noelle murmurs, rocking Mimi gently in his arms, his voice a soothing lullaby against the chaos of our return. But despite his efforts, our daughter continues to cry, her tiny fists clenching the fabric of his shirt as if afraid we'll disappear again. Guilt tugs at my chest. We've been gone too long. I knew she would miss us, but seeing the distress in her big, watery eyes makes it hit home.

I step closer, placing a hand on Noelle's back, rubbing slow, reassuring circles. Mimi's sobs quiet just a fraction, her tiny nose scrunching as she lets out a few hiccups. Her green eyes, so much like Noelle's, stare up at me, pleading. She doesn't understand why we left, only that we were gone. And now that we're back, she doesn't want to let go.

I won't let her cry herself to exhaustion.