My Little Omega
I explained with my eyes fixed on the who didn't seem to worry.
At that moment, her supposed daughter rushed into the room with a glass of the mixture I usually took for the headaches.
“I am Martha, and this is my daughter. I call her little biscuit,” she replied, making her daughter roll her eyes.
“Mom…” She called, stomping her feet, and making a tantrum about her mom calling her little biscuit.
“I’m not little anymore,” she replied to Martha before turning towards me, “and you can call me Cookie. My mom named me that because she loved lot of cookies when she was pregnant with me, but it's a good name tho,” Cookie concluded, smiling at me.
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