On cue, Angel leaned into his arms, rubbing her face before she turned to look at her mother, a small pout forming on that little mouth.
Daisy massaged the spot between her brows as she looked at the pair of big and small devils who were looking at her pitifully. She did not have the heart to expose them but she was still bemused by their coordination in this exaggerated acting.
As if she did not know the instances when her daughter cried. The more Angel grew up, the further she matured, even in the matter of a few months. Unlike when she used to bawl when she was hungry as a toddler, now she would just say it and wait, sulk if it was delayed, not shedding a single tear. She only had very few instances of crying and those were all linked to parting with loved ones.
