The morning sun filtered through the curtains, scattering gold across Olivia's desk. She sat quietly, staring at the invitation letter for the upcoming Stanford competition. Her name printed in bold still gave her a rush of excitement — but her heart felt heavy.
She hadn't seen much of her mother since that breakfast. The warmth of that morning had quickly cooled under hospital meetings and late-night calls.
John appeared by the door. "Ready for school?"
"Yeah." She grabbed her bag and followed him out.
The drive was silent at first, only the faint hum of the car engine filling the air. Then John's lips curved into a playful smile. "You've been talking a lot about that competition, huh? That Peter boy's in it too, right?"
Olivia rolled her eyes. "Dad."
"What? He's a good kid. Just… remember, I'm still watching."
She smirked. "You sound like one of those protective movie dads."
"That's because I am one," he said with mock seriousness, making her laugh for the first time that morning.
When they pulled into the school parking lot, Peter was already there, leaning on his car, backpack slung casually over his shoulder.
John lowered his voice. "That's him?"
"Dad—"
Before she could finish, John rolled down the window. "Hey, Peter!"
Peter straightened, startled. "Good morning, sir."
John smiled warmly. "Keep an eye on her for me, will you?"
Peter nodded, slightly embarrassed. "Yes, sir."
Olivia groaned as her father drove away. "He's impossible."
Peter grinned. "I like him already."
During break, Olivia and Peter found a quiet spot under the jacaranda tree behind the science lab. Students were scattered across the field, laughing and shouting, but their little corner felt like a world apart.
"So," Peter began, pulling at the grass between his fingers. "How's home?"
Olivia hesitated. "Complicated."
"Still fighting?"
She sighed. "Sometimes I think that's all they know how to do."
Peter nodded, thoughtful. "I get it. My mom and dad used to argue too."
She turned to him. "Used to?"
He took a breath, his eyes softening. "My dad died when I was eight. Car accident. He was on his way home from work."
Olivia froze. "Oh my God, Peter… I'm so sorry."
He shrugged gently. "It's been a while. But I still remember that night — my mom pacing by the window, waiting. The headlights that never showed up. After that, everything changed. She had to raise me alone. She worked day and night just to keep us afloat."
There was a long pause. The wind stirred the leaves above them.
"Maybe that's why I admire your mom," he continued quietly. "She's doing her best, even if it doesn't always look perfect."
Olivia's throat tightened. "You sound like my dad."
Peter smiled. "Smart man."
They both laughed softly, easing the heaviness of the moment.
Then Olivia asked, "Don't you ever get angry? You know… about losing him?"
"Sometimes," he admitted. "But anger won't bring him back. So I just try to make him proud instead."
She nodded slowly. His calmness, his quiet strength — it stirred something deep in her.
For the first time, Olivia saw Peter not just as the top student in class, but as someone who understood what it meant to lose something precious.
Later that afternoon, the science team gathered in the auditorium for a briefing. Their coach, Mrs. Natacha, stood at the front, clapping her hands for attention.
"Alright, team! Stanford is expecting the best from us. I hope everyone's been preparing because we're up against tough competition."
Peter, as team lead, stood up to speak. "We've all got different strengths — biology, physics, chemistry. If we combine them, no team can beat us."
The room buzzed with agreement. Mrs. Natacha nodded approvingly. "That's the spirit."
Olivia caught Peter's eye from across the table. He smiled at her — not the charming kind of smile, but the quiet one that said you can do this.
For the first time in weeks, she felt seen.
After the meeting, Olivia and Peter walked out together. The hallway was almost empty, their footsteps echoing softly.
"So," Peter said lightly, "do you think we'll win?"
"I think we have a chance," she replied. "Especially with you giving motivational speeches."
He chuckled. "You weren't impressed?"
"Oh, I was," she said with a teasing smile. "Just… maybe a little too confident."
"Confidence is half the win."
"Then you've already won."
Their laughter carried down the hall, easy and unforced.
At that moment, neither of them realized how much these small exchanges were slowly healing the cracks life had left in both their hearts.
That night, as Olivia sat by her window, she replayed their conversation in her mind. Peter's story lingered — the boy who had lost a father yet still smiled like the world hadn't broken him.
She wondered if she could ever be that strong.
Outside, the stars shimmered faintly. Somewhere deep inside, hope flickered — fragile, but alive.