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"I WANT MOMMY," Maya huffs, her arms crossing over her applesauce-stained shirt. Her lips puffed out as she turned her head towards the gentle trees that swayed in the wind, visible through the large window. The trees went a few miles out, hiding this palace from public view—a safe haven for the royal family when the public had gotten too much. Refusing to even look at Anakin, she turns her body completely.
Anakin sighs, placing the plastic bowl down on the table. This had happened all morning. Astrid had given him the task of taking care of Maya, which was hard for anyone seeing the little girl's attachment to her, while she traced the video. His eyes drooped, a hand sliding down his jaded face. Maya really gave him a run for his money. If he thought he was too stubborn, Maya had easily proved him wrong. With a defeated exhale, Anakin does what he has only ever done with Astrid, begs, "please, sweetheart. Mommy is busy right now. It's daddy's turn to take care of you."
"No," Maya shakes her head, turning back to face him. Her bottom lip juts out and her eyes widen—she was doing puppy eyes, and truth be told, it was working. Her voice was soft, "Daddy, can we please go see mommy?"
