Lettie never understood why she felt different from other women. Why did she love fighting and training? Why could she feel the strength of the people around her? And, above all, what was the point of it all? What was she fighting for?
Her life chan...
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LETTIE
A strong burning smell filled my kitchen.
My pie was gone.
Stumbling over the chair, I jumped up and ran to the oven. As I turned it off, I realized how much my hands were shaking. My throat was so dry, it felt like it was going to tear.
It was then that I realized: Piccolo and I kissed.
We... We kissed!!!
And Naíma had just asked if we were going to be a family now and if Piccolo would be her... daddy.
What. Was. Happening?
In a second, I was sitting there in that chair, talking to Piccolo about my fears, waiting for my pie to be ready, and the next... we were doing what I had been wanting for ages.
How did everything turn upside down in the blink of an eye?
I stared at Piccolo again. He was white and paralyzed, alternating between staring at me and Naíma. I could almost see smoke coming out of his head. It was clear that he was as disturbed as I was by the sudden situation we had found ourselves in.
What now?! What would we do?! How would we explain our kiss to Naíma?? How would we explain our kiss to ourselves??
"S-Sweetheart..." I went to her and got down to her height, trying to sound as normal as possible, but failing. "Go to your room and play... P-Piccolo and I need to talk, okay?"
"Oh, Mommy..." Naíma looked at me sadly. "I want to stay here with you... Pwease..."
My heart clenched in anguish. Desperate, I sought Piccolo's gaze. Even though he still seemed troubled, he changed his posture and straightened up, showing the paternal authority that I knew he exerted over her.
"Naíma," he said firmly, "obey your mother. Now go to your room."
Like a good daughter, despite being upset, she obeyed. However, before disappearing down the hallway, she turned to us and, with a dejected expression, asked, "Mommy, Daddy, please... Don't fight."
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