Emily looked up at me, her expression a complex mix of emotions—embarrassment, longing, confusion, and something else I couldn't quite name.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, clutching the bear tighter. "I shouldn't have... I was just exploring, and the door wasn't locked and I—"
"It's okay," I said softly, stepping into the room. "I don't mind."
She looked around again, her eyes lingering on the canopy bed with its mountain of pillows and stuffed animals. "Is this... do you have a...?"
"No," I answered her unfinished question. "I don't have a child, and this room was never meant for one."
"But this room..."
I moved farther in, lowering myself to sit on the floor near her, but not too close. "I made it a long time ago. For someone who never came. Someone I was never lucky enough to find."
Emily's fingers tightened around the bear's paw. "You're a Daddy Dom," she said quietly. Not a question, but a realization.
"Yes." No point denying it now. "I am."
She nodded slowly, looking down at the bear in her lap. A tear slipped down her cheek, landing on the bear's fuzzy head.
"Emily?" I reached out, gently tilting her chin up to look at me. "What's going on in that beautiful head of yours?"
"I shouldn't be here," she whispered, but she didn't move away from my touch. "This is private. Personal."
"It is," I agreed. "But maybe it's not a coincidence that you found it."
Her breath hitched. "What do you mean?" Her voice trembled, and she hugged the bear tighter.
I took a deep breath, deciding to lay my cards on the table. "Emily, from the moment I first saw you in that compound, something about you called to me. Not just because you were brave or because you needed help, but because I saw something in you that... meant more."
"I don't understand," she whispered, but the way her eyes avoided mine told me she did.
"I think you do," I said gently. "The way you responded when I fed you this morning. The way you curled against me last night. The way you're holding that bear right now, like he's the most precious thing in the world."
Emily's eyes filled with tears. "I'm not... I can't be..."
"A Little?" I finished for her. "Why not?"
"Because I'm a professional. Because I take care of others. Because I've spent my entire life proving I don't need anyone." The words tumbled out, each one sounding more desperate than the last. "Because my parents would be horrified. Because the kids I work with deserve someone strong. Because—"
"Because you've only ever been able to rely on yourself," I said softly.
She fell silent, a tear slipping down her cheek. I reached out and gently wiped it away with my thumb.
"Being a Little doesn't make you weak, Emily. It doesn't diminish your strength or your capabilities. It just means that sometimes, in safe spaces with safe people, you allow yourself to be cared for the way you care for others."
Her lower lip trembled. "I've never told anyone. Not even Jennifer. It’s something I keep secret." She shook her head. "I was so private I think Jennifer thought I'd got a secret boyfriend."
"being a Little is one of the bravest things to be. It takes incredible courage to acknowledge this part of yourself, especially after you've spent so long hiding it."
"How did you know?" she asked, finally meeting my eyes.
I smiled gently. "Small tells. How you respond to praise. Your thumb drifting toward your mouth when you're tired or stressed. But mostly, it was just instinct. My Daddy instincts recognized your Little side, even when you were trying to hide it."
Emily looked down at the bear, her fingers tracing its embroidered nose. "I've always fought it. Told myself it was childish, inappropriate."
"And how has that worked out for you?" I asked without judgment.
A hollow laugh escaped her. "Not great. I buy myself stuffed animals then give them away to charity. I watch cartoons with the volume turned low so the neighbors can't hear. I..." she hesitated, a deep blush spreading across her cheeks.
