Billie Eilish and her daughter imagines

Away from mommy

A/n: there will be french in this chapter just imagine Billie raised Amelia in France (because I'm french and I wanted to have french so here we go !)

Amelia 15yo

The gentle hum of the airplane's engines was a constant reminder that I was thousands of feet in the air, traveling to a country I had only dreamed of visiting. England. The place where I would finally immerse myself in the English language, surrounded by its accents, culture, and history. The excitement of this adventure bubbled up inside me, mingling with a hint of nervousness.

At fifteen, I was on my first solo travel experience, a language immersion trip designed to make me fluent in English. The irony wasn't lost on me-being raised by Billie Ellish, a global superstar who spoke perfect English, yet here I was, needing this trip to truly master it. Growing up in France, my mother had always spoken French to me, wanting me to embrace my roots and the beautiful, romantic language of my home country.

Now, as the plane began its descent into London, I clutched my beloved stuffed rabbit, Milo, close to my chest. Milo had been my companion since I was a baby, a gift from my mother. His worn ears and soft fur were a comfort, a piece of home that I could take with me.

After landing, I was greeted by my host family, the Millers. They were kind and welcoming, their British accents thick and charming. Mrs. Miller was a sweet woman in her mid-forties with a warm smile, and Mr. Miller was a jovial man who enjoyed making jokes to ease my nerves. They had a daughter, Emily, who was my age and quickly became a friend. Emily was patient with my English, helping me with words and phrases I didn't understand.

But it was Marie, my roommate, who truly made me feel at ease. Marie and I had traveled together from France. We were both here for the same reason-to improve our English. Sharing a room with her was like having a piece of home right beside me.

The Millers insisted on speaking English to us, and while Marie and I spoke French between ourselves, we respected the household's language. Our days were filled with classes, excursions, and activities designed to immerse us in English. It was exhilarating and exhausting at the same time.

Every night, I would FaceTime my mom. Those moments were my lifeline. I would switch to French, my heart swelling with relief as soon as I heard her voice.

"Salut, maman," (hi mommy) I would say, my eyes lighting up at the sight of her familiar face on the screen.

"Ma chérie, comment ça va?" (My love, how are you?) she would ask, her voice a soothing balm to my homesick soul.

We would talk about our days, laugh at her jokes, and sometimes, I would just lie in bed, listening to her sing softly to me, just like she did when I was a child. But there was one particular night when I needed her more than ever.

That day had been particularly rough. I struggled in class, unable to grasp a lesson that everyone else seemed to understand. I felt isolated, my confidence taking a hit. By the time I returned to my room, I was on the verge of tears.

Marie noticed immediately. "Ça va, Amelia?" (You're okay, Amelia?) she asked, concern etched on her face.

"Non," (no,) I admitted, my voice quivering. "Je veux ma maman." (I want my mommy)

Marie came over and hugged me tightly. "Ça va aller. Appelle-la."(it's gonna be okay. Call her)

nodded, grabbing my phone and dialing my mom's number. The moment she picked up, I burst into tears.

"Amelia, qu'est-ce qui ne va pas?" (Amelia what's wrong?) my mom's voice was filled with worry.

"Je n'arrive pas à suivre en classe. Tout le monde comprend sauf moi. Je me sens tellement seule ici," (I can't follow in class. Everyone understands but not me. I feel so alone here) I sobbed, clutching Milo tightly.