The last rays of the evening sun cast long, golden streaks across the apartment as Ash forced herself to her feet. Her legs felt heavy and unsteady beneath her as she wiped her tear-streaked face with the sleeve of her shirt. Her chest still ached, but the sobs had subsided, leaving behind a hollow, aching weariness. She needed to do something, anything, to distract herself.

She wandered into the kitchen, slow and deliberate, as she opened the cabinets. The sight that greeted her was unsurprising but disheartening: rows of instant noodles, a few cans of soup, and little else. Her attempt to pre-stock the apartment had been half-hearted at best, and she had focused entirely on the daycare below.

With a sigh, Ash grabbed a packet of ramen, filled a small pot with water, and set it to boil. The faint hiss of the burner was oddly comforting in the quiet apartment, grounding her as she mechanically prepared the meal. When the noodles were ready, she poured them into a bowl and settled at the small dining table, the steam curling softly in the dim light.

She picked up her fork, twirling it absently in the noodles, but her mind was already drifting. The simplicity of the meal, the solitude of the moment, reminded her of another time, a time she’d worked so hard to forget.

Back then, when she’d been reduced to the status of a Little, she hadn’t had to worry about these things. There were no grocery lists to write, no bills to pay, and no decisions about what to eat. Every need had been provided for; every responsibility was stripped away. She’d hated it—the loss of her autonomy, the infantilizing control. But now, sitting alone with her ramen, a flicker of envy crept into her thoughts.

The simplicity of it all had been a twisted comfort. Someone else had handled the burdens of life, leaving her with nothing to do but exist. The lack of autonomy had been suffocating and humiliating, but it had also been freeing.

Ash shook her head, her lips tightening as she twirled another forkful of noodles. No. She couldn’t let herself think like that. She had fought too hard to reclaim her independence, to build a life where she called the shots. That freedom came with challenges—loneliness and exhaustion—but it was hers. And she would never give it up again.

She glanced toward the closed bedroom door, where Kaylee was undoubtedly sleeping soundly, swaddled and pacified. For all her teasing earlier, Ash couldn’t shake the small, bitter pang of jealousy. Kaylee, stripped of her Amazon stature and power, now had none of the responsibilities that weighed on Ash every day. The very lack of autonomy that Kaylee surely loathed was something Ash had, on some level, missed.

But it wasn’t worth it. She couldn’t let herself believe it was worth it. Never again, she thought firmly, her resolve hardening. She would never return to that life, no matter how tempting the simplicity might seem in moments like this.

Ash finished her ramen in silence, the warm broth settling uneasily in her stomach. The evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting the apartment into shadows, and she stared into the empty bowl for a long moment before standing. The night was still young, and she had things to do, responsibilities to shoulder, and a life to live—on her terms.

The quiet click of the lock echoed in the hallway as Ash double-checked the door to her apartment. Satisfied, she turned and made her way down to the daycare, the soft hum of the elevator filling the stillness around her. When the doors slid open, she stepped into the unfinished space; her footsteps light against the bare flooring.

The daycare was a work in progress, and the faint scent of fresh paint lingered in the air. Boxes were stacked neatly against the walls, their contents waiting to be unpacked. The furniture remained draped in protective plastic, and the room blended potential and incompletion. Ash exhaled, rolling up her sleeves as she got to work.

Hours slipped by in a blur of movement as Ash meticulously unpacked supplies, adjusted furniture, and organized shelves. The repetitive tasks grounded her, each completed step a small victory against the storm of thoughts swirling in her mind. But even as her hands worked, her thoughts remained restless, circling back to Kaylee, the betrayal, and the complicated emotions that refused to settle.

When she finally locked the daycare for the night, fatigue tugged at her body. Her arms ached, her legs heavy as she trudged back to the elevator. The apartment was quiet when she returned, the air still and slightly cooler than before. She opened the bedroom door a crack, peeking inside.

Kaylee was exactly as she’d left her, swaddled snugly in the crib. The pacifier bobbed faintly in her mouth, her chest rising and falling steadily. Ash lingered for a moment, her expression softening despite herself. As much as she wanted to hold onto her anger, the sight of Kaylee so vulnerable stirred something else—a flicker of pity, of responsibility. She closed the door quietly, her footsteps barely audible as she retreated to the bathroom.

The shower roared to life, the rush of warm water cascading over her as she stepped inside. Ash pressed her arm against the tiled wall, her head bowed as the steam curled around her. The heat soaked into her muscles, easing some of the tension in her body, but it did nothing to quiet her mind.

Her thoughts raced, a chaotic mix of emotions that refused to be silenced. Anger, regret, sadness—they all vied for attention, pulling her in different directions. She replayed the day's events in her mind, dissecting every moment, word, and feeling. Why had Kaylee done it? Why had she risked everything they’d built? Was it desperation? Ignorance? Or had Ash misjudged her entirely?

The questions swirled relentlessly, feeding her frustration as the water streamed down her back. She clenched her jaw, curling her fingers into a fist against the wall. "I should hate her," she thought, the words sharp and bitter. She should hate Kaylee for what she did to her in proving her right about Amazons.

But even as she thought it, Ash couldn’t deny the pang of sadness that came with the realization. She didn’t want to hate Kaylee. She had tried to trust her, to believe that Kaylee was different, that she wasn’t like the rest. And now, that hope lay shattered, leaving only the sharp fragments of disappointment.

The water began to cool, pulling Ash back to the present. She pushed herself upright, wiping a hand across her face as she turned off the shower. Her reflection in the mirror was blurry with steam, her damp hair clinging to her skin. She looked tired—more tired than she felt physically.

She wrapped a towel around herself and padded softly back into the bedroom. The room was quiet, and the dim light cast long shadows on the walls as Ash pulled on a pair of loose pajamas. Her damp hair clung to her neck, but she did not mind as her gaze shifted to the crib.

Stepping closer, Ash looked down at Kaylee, swaddled snugly and sound asleep. Her lips moved faintly around the pacifier, the soft suckling sound almost imperceptible in the room's stillness. Ash felt a pang of pain twist in her chest as she watched. It wasn’t Kaylee she saw lying there—it was herself. Vulnerable, humiliated, stripped of her autonomy. The memory was sharp, raw, and impossible to ignore.

Her hand moved almost unconsciously, brushing the edge of the blanket aside to press against Kaylee’s diaper. The padding was warm and swollen beneath her fingers, the telltale sign of its fullness. Ash’s throat tightened, her mind flickering back to her experiences—discomfort, helplessness, and indignity.

She hated the betrayal, hated Amazons for everything they had done to her. But as she stood there, staring at the sleeping figure before her, another realization took hold: She wasn’t one of them; she was better than them.

With a quiet sigh, Ash lowered the crib rail, carefully lifting Kaylee into her arms. The girl stirred slightly, a soft whimper escaping her lips, but she didn’t wake. Her pacifier bobbed faintly as Ash carried her to the bed, laying her gently on the changing mat she had spread across it earlier.

The process was automatic. Her hands moved with practiced care as she peeled back the tabs of Kaylee’s diaper. The smell of the powdered formula lingered faintly, but Ash worked quickly, cleaning and changing the girl with a tenderness that surprised even herself. She reached for a fresh diaper, fastening it snugly around Kaylee’s waist before tucking her back into the blanket.

Kaylee remained oblivious, her soft breathing steady and calm. Ash lingered momentarily, her hand resting lightly on the girl’s chest as she watched the gentle rise and fall. Ash trusted her once, her lips pressing into a thin line. And Kaylee had trusted her; now look at where they were.

Ash climbed into bed, pulling the swaddled Kaylee close to her chest and pushing the thought aside. The girl fits perfectly against her, warm and soft in a way that makes Ash’s heart ache with conflicting emotions. As much as she wanted to hold onto her anger and resentment, she couldn’t ignore the quiet vulnerability of the figure in her arms.

Ash closed her eyes, her grip tightening slightly as exhaustion finally began to pull her under. Whatever tomorrow brought, she would face it. But for now, in the stillness of the night, she clung to the one truth she could hold onto: She was not one of them and never would be.

*

Kaylee stirred slowly, her mind swimming between sleep and wakefulness. Something felt different. She wasn’t in the crib—she could tell that much. Her body was still snugly swaddled, the secure pressure of the blanket a stark reminder of her reduced state. The thick diaper between her legs was unmistakable, its bulk forcing her thighs apart even as she shifted slightly. But she wasn’t alone.

Her cheek rested against something warm, rising and falling gently with steady breathing. The warmth cradled her, comforting in a way that made her chest tighten with emotion. As her senses sharpened, she realized with disbelief that she was being held.

By Ash.

Her heart clenched painfully as the realization settled in, the previous day's memories crashing over her like a tidal wave. Kaylee’s betrayal, Ash’s anger, and the humiliation she had endured came flooding back, sharp and raw. And yet, here she was, held close in Ash’s arms. The girl she had hurt so deeply was still looking after her, still caring for her, despite everything.

Tears welled in Kaylee’s eyes, spilling silently down her cheeks as she pressed her face into Ash’s shoulder. She hated herself in that moment—hated what she had done, hated the pain she had caused. Her body trembled slightly, her breathing shaky as the guilt consumed her.

Her bladder ached, the pressure a reminder of her predicament. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing it to go away, but the effort was futile. Why bother? she thought bitterly, her tears flowing freely now. Ash wouldn’t let her use the bathroom anyway. With a soft, resigned sigh, she let go, the warmth spreading through her diaper as her bladder emptied. The padding swelled around her, absorbing everything, and she could feel the faint crinkle as it adjusted to accommodate the wetness.

Then she realized another change: her diaper had been clean when she woke. Ash must have changed her sometime during the night. The thought made Kaylee cry harder; her sobs muffled against Ash’s shoulder. Even after everything she had done… Ash still took care of her.

At first, Kayle didn’t notice Ash stirring; her emotions consumed her. But when she felt the girl shift slightly, her breathing changing, Kaylee stiffened, her sobs quieting into soft whimpers. Ash’s eyes fluttered open, her expression groggy but quickly sharpening as she registered the tearful figure in her arms.

“Kaylee?” Ash’s voice was soft, hesitant. “Are you… crying?”

Kaylee nodded, unable to stop the tears that spilled down her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “Ash, I’m so sorry for what I did. I—I don’t know what I was thinking. I never wanted to hurt you; I just… I thought I was helping.”

Ash’s face tightened, her eyes searching Kaylee’s tear-streaked face. The hurt lingered in her gaze, but so was something else—something softer, more conflicted.

Kaylee’s words tumbled out in a rush, her voice trembling as she tried to explain. “I was wrong, Ash. I see that now. I should have never—” She broke off, her breath hitching as she sobbed. “I should have trusted you to heal on your own. I didn’t mean to betray you. I didn’t want to. Please… believe me.”

For a long moment, Ash didn’t respond. Her expression was unreadable, and her arms held Kaylee securely as she processed the heartfelt apology. Kaylee could feel her heart pounding, tears soaking into Ash’s shirt as she waited. The silence stretched between them like a chasm.

Ash studied Kaylee for what felt like an eternity, her sharp gaze boring into the tearful Amazon’s eyes. Kaylee’s chest tightened under the weight of that scrutiny, her trembling lips trying to form more words to plead her case. But she held back, willing herself to project just how earnest she truly was. The ache in her heart was unbearable—she needed Ash to understand.

Ash’s expression shifted, a flicker of something softer crossing her face before it hardened again. She sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping as she looked away, her fingers idly brushing against the blanket wrapped around Kaylee.

“I don’t know,” Ash said, her voice low and strained. “I don’t know if I can believe you.”

Kaylee felt like she’d been struck. Her breath caught, her tears flowing anew as the words sank in. “Ash, I—”

Ash held up a hand, cutting her off. “Don’t.” Her tone wasn’t cruel, but it was firm, tinged with the exhaustion of someone who had been hurt one too many times. “I can’t tell if this is some elaborate trick, Kaylee. If you’re just biding your time, trying to find a way to get back to being an Amazon—back to being the person who betrayed me.”

Kaylee opened her mouth to protest, her hands tugging at the swaddle in frustration, but Ash shook her head. “No. Stop. I don’t want to hear it.” Her voice softened slightly, her gaze flickering back to meet Kaylee’s. “The best thing we can do right now is… keep going. You’ve broken my trust completely, Kaylee. And if you’re being honest and mean what you’re saying, you’ll have to earn it back. It’s not going to happen overnight.”

The admission hit Kaylee like a second blow, the finality of it settling deep in her chest. She had known it wouldn’t be easy to regain Ash’s trust, but hearing the words spoken aloud was a bitter pill to swallow. “I’ll do whatever it takes,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I swear, Ash. I’ll make it right.”

Ash sighed again, running a hand through her hair. “We’ll see,” she said simply, her tone unreadable. She hesitated momentarily, her eyes flicking down to Kaylee’s swaddle, then back to her face. “Look, I’m not heartless. As much as I’d love to make you pay for everything Amazons have done to me… I can’t. I don’t have it in me.”

Kaylee’s breath hitched, a faint flicker of relief breaking through her despair. But before she could say anything more, Ash stood, pulling the blanket from her swaddled form. Kaylee shivered slightly as the cooler air of the room brushed against her skin.

Ash scooped her up without another word, carried her to the bed, and gently laid her on the changing mat. The familiar sound of undoing tapes filled the room as Ash worked methodically, her expression distant but her hands careful and deliberate. Kaylee whimpered softly, a fresh wave of shame washing over her as she realized how wet her diaper had become. Ash said nothing, and her movements were efficient as she cleaned and changed Kaylee.

The fresh diaper was snugly fastened, and its bulk was a reminder of her reduced status. Ash straightened, tossing the used diaper into the trash before returning to Kaylee. For a moment, she hesitated; her expression conflicted once more. “I’m not doing this for you,” she said quietly, her voice soft but firm. “I’m doing this because I’m not like them. And I won’t let them make me into something I’m not.”

Ash carried her to the kitchen without another word, settling Kaylee in her lap as she prepared a bottle of formula. The soft hum of the apartment was broken only by the sound of the bottle being shaken, and Kaylee’s heart sank further as Ash turned her attention back to her.

“I’ve been thinking,” Ash began, her voice calm but firm as she placed the bottle against Kaylee’s lips. “For now, you’re going to be my Little.”

Kaylee’s eyes widened, and she whimpered softly around the rubber nipple as the warm formula filled her mouth. She wanted to protest, but Ash’s sharp gaze silenced her before she could muster the courage.

“I’m not an Amazon,” Ash continued, her tone matter-of-fact, “but keeping you as a Little means you pose no risk to me. And let’s be honest—you’ve proven I can’t trust you right now.” She paused, brushing a stray lock of hair from Kaylee’s face. “So, for now, this is your life. My baby. Everything that comes with that.”

Kaylee’s cheeks burned as she suckled on the bottle, her stomach knotting with shame and helplessness. The warm and sweet formula coated her tongue as it trickled down her throat, but the sheer indignity of the situation overshadowed the taste.

Ash’s expression softened slightly as she lifted the bottle, ensuring Kaylee drank steadily. “You wanted to play Mommy, right?” she said, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. “Well, now you get to be the other side of that equation.”

The bottle emptied far too quickly for Kaylee’s liking, and Ash pulled it away, patting her back gently but firmly until a soft burp escaped her lips. Kaylee’s cheeks flamed brighter as Ash wiped her face with a damp cloth, her touch almost tender despite the circumstances.

“Good girl,” Ash said, her voice carrying a faint teasing edge. She set the cloth aside, adjusting Kaylee slightly in her lap. “You might not like it, but if you’re serious about earning my trust back, this is how it starts.”

Kaylee swallowed hard, the weight of Ash’s words settling heavily on her. She hated this—hated every moment of it—but she couldn’t deny the truth in what Ash was saying. If she wanted any chance of rebuilding their relationship, of proving herself, she would have to surrender to this role. For now, at least.

Drawing a shaky breath, Kaylee glanced up at Ash. “If… if you’re my Mommy,” she began hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper, “you’ll have to keep up with the Little Care Act. Otherwise, I could be taken away.”

Ash raised an eyebrow, her gaze narrowing slightly. “The Little Care Act?” she echoed, her tone laced with skepticism. “You think I don’t know how to care for you?”

Kaylee flinched slightly but pressed on, her cheeks flushing with renewed embarrassment. “It’s not just about care,” she said quietly. “There are rules. Guidelines. Things… that need to be done, or someone could report you. Ever since the Resistance, the government has been tightening its control on Littles.”

Ash raised an eyebrow, her gaze fixed on Kaylee with a mix of surprise and curiosity. “You’re actually suggesting this?” she asked, her tone almost incredulous.

Kaylee squirmed slightly in Ash’s lap, her fingers twisting the edge of the blanket still draped loosely over her. “If this is how I earn back your trust, then I’ll do it. If… if we’re going to do this,” she began hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper, “play Mommy and Baby girl… then the first thing we need to do is go shopping.”

Ash tilted her head, crossing her arms as she studied Kaylee more intently. “Shopping?” she repeated, clearly intrigued.

Kaylee’s cheeks flamed brighter, her gaze fixed firmly on the floor. “Your apartment… it’s not exactly equipped for a baby,” she muttered, the words tumbling out quickly as if saying them faster would lessen the humiliation. “We need supplies. Furniture. Clothes…”

She trailed off, her face burning as she struggled to say the next part. After hesitating, her voice dropped to a barely audible murmur. “Mommy.”

The word hung in the air like a thunderclap, its weight making Kaylee’s heart pound in her chest. She couldn’t bring herself to meet Ash’s eyes, her fingers tightening around the blanket as she braced herself for whatever reaction might come.

Ash blinked, her lips twitching upward in a faint smirk as she leaned closer, her voice laced with amusement. “What was that last part?”

Kaylee swallowed hard, her face impossibly red as she repeated, “Mommy,” her tone slightly louder but no less strained.

Ash chuckled softly, the sound both infuriating and disarming. “Well,” she said, leaning back with an air of mock authority, “if my baby girl insists, I suppose we’d better make sure everything’s just right for you.”

Kaylee groaned softly, her humiliation complete as Ash stood, lifting her effortlessly and settling her back in the crook of her arm. “Let’s get you dressed first,” Ash said, her tone light and teasing. “Can’t take my baby out shopping in just a diaper, now can we?”

As Ash carried her toward the bedroom, Kaylee buried her face in her hands, mortified at what she had just agreed to. But deep down, she knew it was the only way forward. If she were going to make things right, if she had any hope of regaining Ash’s trust, she would have to endure this—no matter how humiliating it might be.