Saturday morning sunlight spilled gently through Olivia's window, falling across her open notebook. Pages filled with sketches of wind turbines, handwritten equations, and small doodles of stars told the story of her late-night thoughts.
She sat cross-legged on her bed, lost in her work. The science project had somehow become her escape — a place where she could breathe, imagine, and feel alive again.
Her phone buzzed. It was Peter.
Peter: "Hey, scientist! You ready for our presentation prep?"
Olivia: "Almost. Give me thirty minutes."
Peter: "Make it twenty. I'm bringing snacks."
She smiled at the screen before tossing her phone onto the bed. Downstairs, her father was making coffee, the smell drifting through the house.
"Morning, Dad," she said, walking in.
John looked up from the newspaper. "Morning, Liv. You're up early."
"Peter and I are meeting at the library to finish the slides."
He nodded with quiet approval. "That's good. You two make a strong team."
Olivia poured herself some orange juice. "Yeah, he's… different."
John raised a brow. "Different how?"
She shrugged, hiding a smile. "He listens."
John chuckled softly. "That's rare enough. Hold on to friends like that."
Just as Olivia turned to leave, Amelia entered, still in her scrubs, her expression weary. "Going somewhere so soon?"
"Library," Olivia replied quickly. "Competition prep."
Amelia nodded but hesitated. "You've been spending a lot of time with this Peter boy, haven't you?"
Olivia froze. "He's just a friend, Mom."
Amelia forced a small smile. "Of course. Just… be careful, alright?"
Something in her tone felt protective yet distant, and Olivia didn't know how to respond. She simply nodded and left.
At the library, Peter was already waiting at their favorite corner table, a box of donuts beside his laptop.
"You weren't kidding about snacks," Olivia said, sitting down.
"Fuel for genius," Peter replied with a grin. "I got chocolate-glazed. Your favorite."
She blinked. "How did you know?"
He shrugged, pretending to be mysterious. "I pay attention."
They spent hours refining their slides, laughing at each other's mistakes, arguing playfully about font choices, and losing track of time. But beneath the laughter, something unspoken began to stir — a gentle current neither dared to name.
At one point, Peter leaned closer to show her a detail on his laptop. Their shoulders brushed, and Olivia's heart skipped a beat. She quickly moved her hand away, pretending to adjust a paper.
"You okay?" he asked, noticing her sudden stillness.
"Yeah. Just… thinking."
Peter smiled faintly. "You think too much."
"Maybe," she said quietly. "It's safer that way."
He wanted to ask what she meant, but her eyes had already drifted to the window, lost in another world.
That night, Amelia came home to find John watching TV alone.
"She's not back yet?" she asked, removing her coat.
"She texted. Said she's finishing up with Peter."
Amelia exhaled. "Peter again."
John gave her a long look. "You don't trust her?"
"It's not that," Amelia replied, sitting beside him. "I just… remember being her age. I don't want her to make choices she'll regret."
John turned down the volume. "Maybe she just found someone who listens to her. Something we haven't done much lately."
The words stung more than Amelia expected. She looked away, eyes glassy with exhaustion and guilt.
Later that evening, Olivia returned home, tired but glowing with quiet joy.
Amelia was waiting by the dining table. "Hey, sweetheart. How was your study session?"
"It was good," Olivia replied. "We're almost done."
Amelia smiled faintly. "I'm proud of you, you know that?"
Olivia nodded, though her voice was soft when she answered. "Thanks, Mom."
As she went upstairs, Amelia watched her go — the way her daughter carried herself, the spark in her eyes. For the first time in a long while, she realized Olivia was growing up.
And somewhere deep inside, she felt the ache of time slipping away.