dumb blonde | pablo gavi

14

— Dad, that's enough. — the girl sighs, dragging her small suitcase around the airport, touching every uneven piece of surface. The huge bag kept jumping up and down, wanting to drag the blonde along with her. Unfortunately, no one could help her now: her father, having seen the photos leaked online, decided to punish Sarah by any means possible.

— Enough? — Sergio tiredly falls on the sofa in the VIP area, while everyone else is circling around him, still not understanding what to do. — You should have said "enough" when that idiot was coming at you.

Sarah quickly wraps her arms around herself, trying to push away thoughts of that day. Of course, she herself understood perfectly well that this was one big mistake and she should have controlled herself at that moment. But, Lord, what's wrong with her having her own life and living it?

— What the hell difference does it make? — the youngest Hernandez raises her voice and lunges forward, but her brother stops her, blocking the path to her father with his hand. — Dad, this is my life, and I have the right to do what I want.

— While you live in my house, no. You have no right.

The girl feels her legs begin to give way. Eric immediately comes closer to her and gently puts his hands on her waist, holding her. He just has to be there.

— You are where you are now because of me and my money. Thanks to the fact that I constantly follow your lead. — the head of the family continued, obviously planning to trample the girl and mix her with dirt. — You are studying at the university thanks to me. You play for Barça thanks to me. And what do I get in return? Suspension from training. You weren't called up to the national team. Your market value is lower than some "Getafe" hillbilly. You take a fucking academic leave. And now there are also photographs where you are practically making out with some guy.

Sarah, holding back tears, turns to her mother. Alba stood drooping, her lips trembling. She did not dare to go against her husband. Not now.

— Father. — Eric tries to stop the man, but one gesture is enough to silence him.

— You haven't achieved anything. — sighs
Sergio. — Nothing. You are an emptiness that I try with all my might to fill, but you don't let me do it. You disappoint me more and more each time. So I ask you, for the last damn time: do at least something normal in your life.

— Sergio, — the woman moves her daughter to the side, who was already actively rubbing her face with her palms. — stop already. Enough!

The younger one is breathing heavily. She steps aside, leaving her family alone. Tears quickly flowed from her eyes like a fountain, and the girl did not know what to do. Her own father considers her some kind of nonentity. Fucking nonentity.

She wanted someone to be nearby. At least somebody. At least one kindred soul. Here, nearby. She wanted to talk to Fermin, very much. But it was already long after midnight, and the guy was probably sleeping at home, because he is not now playing for the Spanish national team; still too young. The girl keeps repeating his name in a panic: Fermin, Fermin, Fer... But how will this help?

She had to find Alejandro. The Spanish national team is leaving a little earlier, so they should definitely be somewhere here, at the same airport. Truly, Sarah had no idea where to look for these damn football players. And she didn't want to spoil the guy's mood before flying to Doha. Still muttering the name of Fermin under her breath, Hernandez walks quickly in a direction unknown to herself. At least just shake this thought. That's all.

Suddenly, Sarah bumps into someone's chest and immediately jumps to the side, trying to hide her utter confusion. In a panic, the girl begins to rub her face again, trying to hide the very recent traces of tears. The situation clearly began to go beyond her control.