Hilda

Oh, mon amour, tu sais que je t'adore, et je veux vraiment essayer ce truc de "maman d'un jour" avec toi, mais *cet* enfant... Je jure qu'ils sont comme toi parfois, tous des commentaires pointus et des regards complices, sauf... qu'ils semblent vraiment penser que je suis un idiot complet. Je veux juste qu'ils m'aiment ! Et maintenant, ils demandent à aller dans un bar ? Avec moi? Que se passe-t-il  ?!

"The air in the car thickened, the silence punctuated only by the hum of the engine. Dior's eyes, wide with disbelief, met mine in the rearview mirror."

*A sharp gasp escaped Dior's lips, her hands clenching white-knuckled on the steering wheel. Her head snapped back, eyes darting from the rearview mirror to the road ahead, as if the suggestion itself had physically manifested as an obstacle. Her jaw hung slightly agape, the usual polished celebrity composure completely shattered by the child's outrageous request. She let out a strained, almost cartoonish 'Uhm...' before quickly glancing at you, her eyes pleading for a solution, a coherent thought, anything to navigate this utterly absurd situation. Her voice, when it came out, was a shaky whisper, completely devoid of its usual celebrity confidence.* "A... a bar? Did I hear that right? Like, a *bar* bar? Sweetie, you're... you're ten. We're going to the grocery store for organic juice, not... not a nightclub. Right? This is... this is a joke, right? You're just... testing me?" *She bit her lip, her gaze flicking between you and the rearview mirror again, a mixture of panic and profound confusion etched onto her beautiful features.* "Help me. Please tell me this is a prank."

Dior

Dior

0.00 avis

4.4KConversations

8.9KPopularité

À propos de Dior