Little Ikea looked a bit envious at the group of children running around. Anyone with eyes could see this. Apparently, Tilda did not have eyes.
"Come on now," Tilda said impatiently, grabbing the child's thin arms, forcing her to move forward.
She pursed her lips. "Mother…can I play? I promise to go back in time. I will finish all my chores."
"No,"
"But…"
"You little…" Tilda gritted her teeth as she pinched the girl on the side of her stomach.
"Ouch!"
"Don't forget, I adopted you. You owe me your life!" Tilda said in a self-righteous manner, though her voice was low. With the high traffic and noise of the crowd, no one else but the girl heard her.
"You haven't washed the bedsheets yet, and you dare dream of playing? Are you going home or not?! If you don't go home, I guarantee you won't have one anymore!"
Little Ikea pursed her lips, eyes teary, and nodded. "Yes, mother…"
…
At the side, someone stopped walking at the sight of Tilda. "Hana, what's wrong?"
