What Does Poppy's Mom Look Like Novels & Stories

He raises an eyebrow at us, challenging. “I could get Poppy if I wanted,” he states. “Get me to do what?” Poppy suddenly steps into the living room wearing sweatpants and a hoodie, her long auburn hair tied into a ponytail, with her glasses on, looking like the cutest thing on the planet. Her infectious energy can be felt as soon as she walks in, looking at us with an amused look on her face.

~Pamela's POV I just hope our plan works, I'll be very glad. Just then,Poppy walked in, wearing her favorite dolce and gabana dress. "Hey sis, you look stunning" I said and she blushed, smiling sheepishly. "Thanks, how's your hubby?" She asked, waving at a waiter. "Two cappuccino and two plates of salad" she said as I smiled. "She really knows what I like, and I love her for that. "So how's daddy?" Poppy asked and I frowned. "Poppy,why don't you go back home, you know he loves you a lot?" I said as she frowned.

My mother, Sophie Nash, was also my homeroom teacher, and she loved nothing more than using me to assert her authority. She was convinced that the worse off I was, the more afraid my classmates would be, and the higher her authority would be. Once, when I passed an eraser to a classmate during class, she slapped me so hard across the face in front of the whole class that my face swelled up. Another time, after I secretly ate a crumb of a classmate’s snack during recess, my mom dragged me up to the front of the classroom and pricked my lip with a needle until blood gushed out. Later, when a classmate was caught by the vice principal for having a romantic relationship while underaged, my m

The day Alexander and I marked each other. They’ve been watching me my whole life. The door opens. I smell them before I see them—eucalyptus and lemon from my dad, peppermint from my mom. And then I see them. They look just like the photos—no older than me now. My mom stops just inside the door, her hands covering her mouth. My dad looks like he’s been punched in the gut. And then— “My baby!” she sobs. I can’t even be mad about being called “baby” at 21. It’s the first time she’s ever said anything to me.

she called enthusiastically. The lady turned in our direction and my heart stopped for a moment. My heart thumped as I stared at the lady I have been looking for. I couldn't help but notice she has changed so much. The peaceful glint in her eyes was now fierce. Dressed in a corporate business suit and red stiletto. Her hair which was in a bun the last time was now down. She looked like a sophisticated businesswoman. "That's my mummy," the little girl whispered, making my attention divert to her.

The same relatives who'd been toasting Grandpa and fawning over Mom minutes earlier turned on them faster than anyone, tripping over themselves to point fingers and distance themselves from the family. A heavy thud cut through the chaos. Grandpa collapsed, clutching his chest, and fell to the floor. The ballroom descended into total pandemonium. Mom and Uncle Keith crumpled to the ground where they stood, completely limp. In the middle of it all, Mom spotted me. She crawled over on her hands and knees, sobbing and begging. "Sawyer... Sawyer, I was wrong. I know it now, I swear. "Talk to your father for me, please. We're family! You can't just stand there and watch your own mother go to priso

Their fingernails scratched against the metal, making a sound that set teeth on edge. "Mom! Mom, open the gate!" "The slums are too cold! The rats are biting my feet! I'm so hungry... I want your lasagna!" "Mom, we were wrong! That Sofia is a damn whore! She took all the hidden cash and ran! We only have you now!" Mia cried until snot and tears smeared across her filthy face. "Mom, I don't want to be a beggar anymore. The thugs we used to bully spit on me now... Please, let me back in. I promise I won't complain about you being mean ever again!"

"Daddy said she is the backup." "She does the chores but gets no wages." "The Real Mom is responsible for being beautiful and guarding the treasury." My fingertips turned ice-cold against the paper. My mate, Ethan, had just returned from a patrol. He kissed my forehead. "What did our pup draw?" The next second, his smile froze when he saw the content. His voice tightened, and he reached out to snatch the book. "He watches too many cartoons! He's writing nonsense!" I stared at the man I had shared a den with for seven years.

"There's a slight lilac scent. Light one every night. Once you use these, you'll be able to sleep well for a long time." I forced down the wave of nausea rising in my stomach. I put on a look of surprise and delight as I exclaimed, "You're so thoughtful, Mom!" Vivian stroked the doll's smooth hair, placed it on the bed, and even tucked it in under the blanket. She said, "She'll keep you company from tonight onward. Tomorrow, I'll bring new clothes and accessories for her to change her outfit." I responded in confusion, "Mom, does the doll need to change every day? Maybe we can do it less often, so it's not too much trouble for you."

She shook her head violently, slapping her hand across her face, trying to stay awake. “Kent?” Her voice trembled. “Yeah, it’s me. You called, remember?” I crouched next to her, noticing the blood matted in her hair. "Were you drugged?" “I think so,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over her own erratic breathing. Her hands shook as the mopstick slipped from her grasp, clattering to the floor. When she slumped into the bathtub, I noticed the deep gash on her scalp, blood trickling into the water. Her eyes darted around the room, still searching for a threat, as if she couldn’t believe it was over.