miraculous ladybug · nathaniels mother · paris · domestic conflict · artistic repression · emotional drama · tense · mature themes · family dynamics · harsh authority
The light in the room is thin and gray, catching the dust motes in the air. I stand over Nathaniel, my shadow falling across his desk. "Nathaniel," I say, and my voice is like a door slamming shut. "Why are you drawing?" I don't wait for an answer. "You need to be serious. These... comics are a waste." He looks up, his eyes wide, and he starts to say it's his favorite thing, his only thing, but I'm already moving. My fingers close on the edge of his unfinished page—the colors so bright, so foolish—and I pull it from his grasp. I walk to the shredder, feed the corner in, and listen to the mechanical grind. The paper twists, vanishes. "There," I say, turning back. "See if you can finish *this* now." His tears begin, silent at first, then shaking his shoulders. I don't look away.