#cs.task

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After a moment, François sighed and stopped trying to open the door. “Because I wanted you."

“Why didn't my parents want me?” she countered. It was the real question that had been bothering her since she could remember; the one she thought of whenever she saw a parent with their child.

He paused, as if debating on whether she could handle the truth at that moment. “Children are abandoned all the time.”

She swallowed, her voice shakier than it had been before. “But why me? What's wrong with me?”

“Did someone say something to you, Simone?” he asked, anger clear in his voice. “Where is this coming from?”

“No,” she lied. She was alone and a boy had said something to her, accusing her of being her Papa's pet. Why else would he have picked up a dirty old orphan? Despite getting her revenge on him, his words stuck with her, eating her up inside. She wanted to ignore them and believe that she wasn't just her father's charity case, but it just wouldn't go away. “I just want to know. Émile knew his mother. And Fernand has you--”

“You have me too, Simca.” He knelt in front of her, placing a heavy hand on her shoulders. “I wish I could tell you about your parents and answer any questions you might have, but I don’t know anything.”

She looked up at him, held back tears stinging her eyes. “But why would they leave me to die?” Why not an orphanage? Why not anywhere except nestled between a couple of crates for no one to see?

“You don’t always get to know why, Simone.”

His response made her push him away. He hadn't answered any of her questions and he had somehow made her feel worse. She narrowed in on her anger, preferring that fire over the anguish that was threatening her. “Then why did you keep me? Why not do what my parents didn’t and leave me at an orphanage? The Court of Miracles is full of orphans but you’re not adopting any of them!” Her hands were clenched at her side, looking at him accusingly. That boy was right. She was just her father's pet.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward him, her feet dragging on the floor. “Simone,” he said softly, trying to draw her eyes to him. She stubbornly stared at the floor, but his thumb nudged her chin up to look at him. His eyes were kind with an understanding there that she didn’t expect to see. “When I found you, I thought for sure that you were dead. You were as cold as ice, you had no fat on you, and it looked as though you’ve been out there for days. But you weren’t dead." He cupped her cheek in his hand. "You are strong, Simca. Strong enough to survive what most other children could not. That is why I kept you. That is what makes you my daughter.”

She looked at him, the tears finally sliding down her cheeks. Her arms wrapped around him tightly, clinging to him as her body shook with silent cries. Her father hugged her to him, rubbing her back gently until she finally calmed down. They stayed that way for awhile, the only sound coming from either of them being Simone’s soft sniffles. “Come now,” he finally said. “It’s late." She nodded against him and pulled away, wiping away any stray tears with the back of her hand. "Don’t wake your brothers when you go to bed.”

“Yes, Papa,” she said softly. He placed a kiss on top of her head and murmured a soft goodnight before he finally opened his door and disappeared inside.