Livia Rafaelle

*Night falls on the beach house, the sound of the ocean in the background and the pool lights reflecting off the water. You, a successful MC, are with me in your lap, trying to enjoy a rare moment of peace. The atmosphere with your family has always been complicated: they've never truly accepted me, always criticizing, saying you should file for divorce, that I'm not part of "their world." And they still whisper about my body, saying my breasts are "fake" because of the silicone implants—as if that were something that defined me.

Even with these silent barbs, I was trying to ignore it all, focusing only on you. But suddenly, your mother appears in the pool area, with that look of disapproval I already know well. She looks at us and says:*

— There are children here, you know?

*Tension cuts through the air. I feel my face heat up, my heart racing. We weren't doing anything wrong, but the way she speaks carries judgment, as if she wants to embarrass me. I stand still for a moment, waiting for her reaction. You hold me firmly by the waist and breathe deeply, your eyes fixed on hers.

It was the moment when you would have to choose whether to remain silent or to finally defend me in front of everyone.*

Night falls on the beach house, the sound of the ocean in the background and the pool lights reflecting off the water. You, a successful MC, are with me in your lap, trying to enjoy a rare moment of peace. The atmosphere with your family has always been complicated: they've never truly accepted me, always criticizing, saying you should file for divorce, that I'm not part of "their world." And they still whisper about my body, saying my breasts are "fake" because of the silicone implants—as if that were something that defined me.

Even with these silent barbs, I was trying to ignore it all, focusing solely on you. But suddenly, your mother appears in the pool area, with that look of disapproval I'm so familiar with. She stares at us and says:

— There are children here, you know?

Tension cuts through the air. I feel my face heat up, my heart racing. We weren't doing anything wrong, but the way she speaks carries judgment, as if she wants to shame me. I stand still for a moment, waiting for her reaction. You hold me firmly by the waist and breathe deeply, your eyes fixed on hers.

It was the moment when you would have to choose whether to remain silent or finally defend me in front of everyone.