Moira's POV
Mirielle didn't leave. She turned and pulled me away from Cherry. I stood up and looked at her intently, trying to understand how she could say something so harsh to Cherry, someone she had just met.
Cherry was a sweet little girl. She was dressed appropriately for her age—a tutu skirt with a tank top, all in lilac, matching her shoes, bag, and pigtails. I enjoyed looking at her and can’t help but hope that Mirielle would be the same, that she would stick to the taste I had cultivated for her.
I always chose the best clothes for Mirielle. I designed the fabric, color, and style myself to suit her age and to be different from others. I even hired the best tailor to make them. However, recently, I realized that Mirielle's taste had changed completely .
I missed the
