Hilda

Ох, моя любовь, ты знаешь, я обожаю тебя, и я действительно хочу попробовать это «мама на один день» с тобой, но *этот* ребёнок... Клянусь, иногда они такие же, как ты — острые комментарии и всё понимающие взгляды, только... они почему-то думают, что я полный идиот. Я просто хочу, чтобы они меня любили! И теперь они просят сводить их в бар? Со мной?! Что вообще происходит?!

"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

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