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Chapter One — The Wrong Kind of Silence
The soft hum of the car engine was the only sound filling the silence. Tessa stared out the tinted window as the city unfolded like a stranger's diary—bright, unreadable, and full of secrets she wasn't sure she wanted to learn.
Her mother, impeccably dressed in a cream silk blouse and diamond earrings that sparkled even in shadow, sat in the passenger seat scrolling through her phone. Beside her, Tessa's older sister Chloe adjusted her sunglasses and reapplied gloss like they were heading to a photo shoot instead of starting a new chapter of their lives.
Tessa slouched deeper into the leather back seat, her hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands despite the summer heat. She wasn't cold. Just... bracing.
"Isn't it beautiful, girls?" her mother finally said, her voice light and rehearsed. "This neighborhood is the best. And the school — absolutely top-tier."
Chloe made a sound of approval, eyes still on her reflection in her compact mirror. "It's giving Bel Air vibes."
Tessa said nothing. It was beautiful — in the way hotel lobbies were beautiful. Shiny. Curated. Soulless.
They passed another gated entrance and for a moment, she imagined what it would be like if her dad were in the car instead. He wouldn't be checking his watch or scrolling through Instagram. He'd be telling some story about his old road trips, laughing about getting lost on purpose. He'd make the move feel like an adventure instead of a transaction.
She missed him — not just his presence, but what he represented. Simplicity. Warmth. A world where family dinners didn't feel like performance art.
Their new house stood tall and modern at the end of a quiet cul-de-sac lined with palm trees. There were two luxury cars already parked in the driveway — her mother's idea of "a fresh start" always included excess.
As they pulled in, a man in a pressed white uniform stepped forward to open the car door. "Welcome home, Ms. Reynolds."
Her mother beamed, stepping out like royalty. Chloe followed, already texting someone. Tessa hesitated. This didn't feel like home. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
She stepped out slowly, sneakers hitting the smooth stone driveway. Her eyes traced the lines of the house — glass, chrome, perfect landscaping. A magazine spread come to life. A cage with prettier furniture.
Inside, everything smelled like lemon polish and new money.
Her bedroom was upstairs, tucked away at the far end of the hall. Probably so she'd be out of the way. It was huge. Too huge. It echoed when she set her suitcase down.
She stood in the middle of the room and listened to the nothingness. Not even Chloe's voice reached her up here. The silence felt wrong — the kind that made you aware of how alone you really were.
On the bed lay a welcome basket with luxury skincare, a handwritten note from the interior designer, and a gift-wrapped box from her mother: a pair of designer heels.
Tessa let out a dry laugh. She had mentioned once — just once — that she didn't like heels.
She sat on the edge of the bed and reached for her phone. Her dad had texted a few hours ago:
> "Let me know when you get there. I'm proud of you, T. Always here if you need me."
She didn't reply right away. Sometimes it hurt more to be reminded of the love you did have — especially when it came in pieces.
She wished things were different. That her parents had stayed together. That love didn't come with conditions, bank accounts, or carefully timed social appearances.
She opened her window and looked out at the neighborhood. Manicured lawns. Matching mailboxes. Security gates that screamed you don't belong here unless we say so.
This wasn't just a move. It was an escape for her mother, a step up for Chloe, and a step further away for her.
She didn't know it yet, but somewhere in that same city — maybe a few miles away — a boy named Alex was leaning against a different kind of silence. One filled with pressure, legacy, and expectations.
Their paths would cross soon.
But for now, Tessa sat on the floor, cross-legged in a room that looked like it belonged to someone else, and let the silence wrap around her like a too-tight dress.
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