"Daddy, can I play with Kerrin after school?" Zella, my seven-year-old daughter, asked. I put down my paper and glanced at her. She was peeking at the door of my room, pouting, and her hands were clasped. I motioned for her to come closer, which she did, but her mouth pouted more."Did I say that you should call him Kuya Kerrin because he's five years older than you?" I said softly. Zella snaked her arms around my waist and looked up at me."I told you, Daddy. I like Kuya Kerrin," she shyly said. I chuckled lightly, carried her, and made her sit on my lap. I removed my eyeglasses and started combing her hair using my slender fingers. I stared at my daughter's eyes and smiled as I saw that some of her features mirrored her mother's."But your mom won't like it when she hears it; you're too young for that kind of stuff, my princess." Zella bit her lower lip, trying to restrain herself from crying, but she couldn't. Umalpas ang luha sa mata niya at nahihiya siyang nagtago ng mukha sa dib
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