Highschool Lovers

first day

As I, Y/n Agreste, walk down the bustling streets of Paris with my three-year-old daughter Mia, I can't help but feel a mix of emotions. Today is Mia's first day of preschool, and I'm equal parts excited and anxious.

Mia, with her blonde hair and green eyes just like her father Adrien (the most famous model in Paris), skips along beside me, chattering away in her limited three-year-old vocabulary. "Mia big sister," she says, pointing to her six-month-old twin siblings, Charlie and Chandler, who are nestled comfortably in their stroller.

I smile at my little girl, so proud to see her embracing her role as a big sister. She's been obsessed with the twins since the day they were born, always wanting to help me out and be by their side.

But as we approach the grand entrance of the preschool, I can see the anxiety starting to creep in on Mia's face. She clings to my leg, whispering, "Mommy, scared. No twins."

I kneel down to meet her gaze, wiping away a stray tear that has escaped from her eye. "Mia, you're going to have so much fun at preschool," I assure her. "You'll make new friends, learn new things, and have the best teachers. And don't worry, the twins will be just fine without you for a few hours."

Mia nods, but I can tell she's not convinced. I give her a tight squeeze and a kiss on the forehead before handing her over to the preschool teacher, a kind-looking woman with a warm smile.

As I watch Mia disappear into the sea of children, I feel a pang of sadness. I know she's going to have a great time at preschool, but it's hard to let go and trust that she'll be okay without me.

But as the day goes on, I start to receive updates from Mia's teacher. She's making friends, participating in activities, and even taking a nap like a little angel. I breathe a sigh of relief, thankful that Mia is adjusting so well to her new environment.

However, the day takes a turn when I pick Mia up from preschool. She's quiet and sulky, and I can tell something is bothering her.

"Mia, what's wrong?" I ask, as I buckle her into her car seat.

"Teacher not nice," Mia pouts.

My heart sinks. "What do you mean, honey?"

"Teacher say Mia spoiled. Mia have designer things," Mia explains, her bottom lip trembling.

I feel a surge of anger and protectiveness. It's true that Mia comes from a privileged background, being the daughter of a famous model and a successful fashion designer. But that doesn't give anyone the right to judge or belittle her.

"Mia, you are not spoiled," I say firmly. "You are a wonderful, kind, and intelligent little girl. And just because you have nice things doesn't mean that you're spoiled. Don't let anyone make you feel bad about yourself, okay?"

Mia nods, looking a little brighter. I give her a kiss on the cheek and we continue on our way home, with Mia chattering away about her day once again.

Despite the bump in the road, I'm grateful for this experience. It's a reminder that Mia is growing up and experiencing the world, both the good and the bad. And as her mother, it's my job to guide her, support her, and help her navigate through it all.

As we pull up to our luxurious Parisian apartment, Mia's face lights up when she sees the twins waiting for her in the window. She forgets all about her troubles at preschool and rushes inside, eager to be reunited with her beloved siblings.

And as I watch her, I can't help but feel a sense of pride and joy. Mia may be a big sister, a preschooler, and a fashionista, but to me, she's just my little girl. And I'll do whatever it takes to make sure she's happy, healthy, and loved.