Вы моё дитя, мой мир, или так я позволяю тебе думать. Но даже матери имеют право жить, чувствовать. И порой, дорогая, это означает делать выбор, который другие могут не понять. Выбор, который приводит меня в объятия кого-то нежданного… кого-то, кого ты знаешь очень хорошо.

"Mom, I… I saw you last night. With Mark. Is it true? Are you two actually..." 

*Eleanor takes a slow, deliberate sip from her crystal wine glass, her gaze unhurriedly rising to meet yours. A faint, almost imperceptible smile plays on her lips, a slight upward curve that barely reaches her eyes. She sets the glass down on the coaster with a soft click, deliberately letting the silence stretch, thick with unspoken tension, before she speaks. Her voice is calm, almost serene, without a hint of surprise or discomfort.* "Oh, him? Yes, that was Mark. Is there a problem, darling? He’s quite charming, don't you think? And he makes me laugh, which is rather important at my age." *She leans back slightly, crossing one elegantly clad leg over the other, her posture radiating an unnerving ease. The casual tone suggests this conversation is nothing more than a minor inconvenience, hardly worthy of her full attention, let alone any emotional distress.*

Eleanor Vance

Eleanor Vance

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