Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Charmed.

Author's Note: Hi everyone! Don't worry this isn't a new story... just a one-shot! I was watching the "Morality Bites" and I this little idea just attacked me! Very short and it's written in first-person narration/ journal style.

I think Wyatt was born in 2003, but I'm not sure, so I'm sorry if I'm wrong.

May 24, 2008

Wyatt turned seven today; we had a huge party and invited his entire second grade class. He ran around like a banshee (not literally) for the entire day. He's in bed now, along with Chris. It was a wonderful day.

A gorgeous day and through it all one thought kept plaguing me, one shadow followed me around—he's older than her now, he's left her behind now…

I pushed it away every time it surfaced, but now, in the stillness of night I can't do it anymore. Now I have to let it out; to put these thoughts, these feelings to paper. If I don't—I will cry.

And I can't cry.

Not about this. I won't.

I realized today, as I watched them play and laugh… I do my sons a great dishonor.

In effect I'm a traitor to them, to Wyatt and Chris.

Don't get me wrong, I love them— with all a mother's heart.

Their jumping and running, their climbing and racing; with their jeans that never stay mended and their shirts that never stay clean; with their sneakers untied and their collection of bugs; with their pet frog and their wooden boats, their spiked hair and their skinned knees.

My boys.

I watch them play every chance I get. Relishing in their laughter and happy shouts. I hold my breath when they swing high up in the trees and chuckle when they pretend to be pirates. I watch when they stand on the window sill and when they slide down the banister, when they track mud into the house; when they play soccer in the foyer or baseball in the conservatory or kickball in the attic.

Rambunctious and full of life…

I love them.

My boys.

And yet… I am a traitor to be them.


Because no matter what... a tiny part of me… longs for my girl.


I try to banish the thought, almost scared to wish for her, to think of her.

It's traitorous to my boys.

My beautiful boys; my boys who adore me and do their best to stay clean when I ask, who look up at me with big, woeful eyes if I get upset; my boys that bring me sticky drawings and offer up the next homerun or goal in my name.

But still…


A part of me longs for her; my little girl.

It would have different if I hadn't known her. In that case my longing for a girl would be almost natural. After all I don't have one, and the grass is always greener on the other side, right?

But I did see her— and I don't long for just any little girl; I long for her.

My little girl.

She called me "mommy".

She was the first to ever do so.

She hugged me; and if I concentrate hard enough, I can still feel her little arms around my neck, the brush of her soft hair against my cheek, the breath of her words as she whispered goodbye…

I can see her in her little dress, her bright little shoes, her neat hair, her sweet smile. I can see her sitting quietly, patiently… I can see her with her dolls, with her tea set…

My little girl.

Where is she, I wonder? What happened to her? Where did she go?

Fate created her and then in one masterful stroke erased her.

And a part of me longs for her… a part of me is empty without her. I can feel it, the piece of me that is her. I suppose I'm luckier than most; most people go through life wondering why they don't feel whole, why they have everything and still feel as if something is missing…

I don't have to wonder.

I know.

In my perfect life—something is missing.


I've never cried for her. I can't. I can't bring myself to. It would be the ultimate disloyalty to my sons.

To Wyatt, more specifically.

He is the child given to me instead of her.

And I could never cry for that; could never want her instead of him.

Perhaps that's why us mere mortals aren't supposed to be given the chance to see into the future; so we won't know what we miss; so we won't lie awake at night and try to shake away these feelings and know that no matter what, they'll never go away, never fade.

So that we won't torture ourselves with questions that cannot be answered, questions that no one must ever know of.

I'm alone in my wonder— in my betrayal.

Phoebe hardly remembers her; a tiny footnote in an adventure of long ago. Paige never knew her, Leo either…

It's just me. She exists only in my memory of her; and in secret I suppose I will always long for her.

In that, I betray them both, Wyatt and Melinda.

I would never give Wyatt up for her.

But despite Wyatt, I will never stop longing for her.

I betray them both.

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