Beneath the Same Sky

Under the Same Sky (Alice’s POV)

The town felt like it was suffocating me.

It had only been a few days since I arrived, but the weight of my new reality was already pressing down on me. The air felt different here—heavier, quieter, like it was holding its breath, waiting for me to do something, anything. Every glance felt like it carried a question, every whisper a judgment.

I had always imagined that after my parents and I moved to the city, life would be bright and full of opportunity. But this wasn’t what I had pictured. My parents, Isabelle and Richard Davis, were gone now—ripped away from me in a tragic car accident. They had built a life of success, amassing wealth through hard work and business ventures. We were millionaires, living in luxury, but none of that mattered anymore. Now, I was here, in this small town, trying to figure out how to keep moving forward when everything I loved had been left behind.

I looked out the window of my room, the large oak tree in the front yard swaying gently in the late afternoon breeze. The town wasn’t bad—it was quiet, pretty even. The streets were lined with old trees and big houses, each with perfectly manicured lawns. My godmother, Elena, lived in one of them. She had been my mother’s best friend for as long as I could remember, and now she was the only family I had left.

Elena was a successful surgeon, focused and driven, a role model in every sense of the word. She had taken me in without hesitation, setting up this room to be a place I could call my own. But no matter how kind she was or how much effort she put into making me feel at home, it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t the house I grew up in, filled with laughter and memories of my parents.

I couldn’t stop thinking about them. Every moment felt hollow without their voices, their presence. I had to remind myself to breathe sometimes, to stay grounded in a world that had shifted overnight. I would wake up some mornings forgetting what had happened, just for a few seconds, before the reality crashed down on me again like a tidal wave.

I looked at the clock. It was almost time for dinner, but I wasn’t hungry. My stomach had been in knots ever since I started thinking about tomorrow: my first day at Westbrook High. The very thought of walking into a new school, where everyone would know about me, made my chest tighten.

They would all know.

The new girl whose millionaire parents died in a car crash. I could hear the whispers already.

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath to steady myself. I had always been strong, but this was something else. It was one thing to deal with grief, another to have the whole world watching you as you did it.

But I had to be strong. For myself. For my parents. They wouldn’t have wanted me to crumble.

There was a soft knock at the door, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Come in,” I called.

Elena stepped inside, her face warm with a gentle smile. She was in her late forties but looked younger—her dark hair always perfectly styled, and her eyes sparkled with energy and kindness. She reminded me so much of my mother sometimes that it hurt.

“Dinner’s ready,” she said softly. “I made lasagna. I know it was your favorite.”

I forced a smile. “Thanks, Elena. I’ll be down in a minute.”

She lingered for a second, her eyes searching mine as if she could feel the weight of my thoughts. “I know tomorrow’s going to be hard,” she said gently. “But you’re strong, Alice. You’ll get through it.”

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Yeah, I know.”

She gave me one last encouraging smile before slipping back out of the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts again.

I stood up and walked over to the mirror, staring at the reflection of the girl I hardly recognized. My long chestnut hair was loose around my shoulders, and my green eyes looked tired, haunted even. I had always been strong, always the one who pushed through obstacles and refused to let anything break me.

But this was different.

I was different.

I ran a hand through my hair, trying to shake off the heaviness that clung to me. Tomorrow would come whether I was ready or not, and there was nothing I could do to change that.

One day at a time, I reminded myself. Just one day at a time.

I headed downstairs to the dining room, where the scent of lasagna filled the air. Elena was already sitting at the table, her eyes soft and reassuring as she poured me a glass of water. The table was set for two, the silence between us comfortable but heavy.

As I picked at my food, my thoughts wandered back to the new school. I wondered what the students would be like, what my teachers would expect from me. It felt strange, starting over when I had barely finished grieving.

Elena must have sensed my unease because she cleared her throat gently. “You know, Alice, Westbrook is a good school. It might take some time, but you’ll make friends.”

I nodded, trying to believe her. “Yeah, I hope so.”

She smiled softly. “Maria’s son goes there, too. Dante. You remember Maria Moretti, right? My neighbor?”

I paused, my fork halfway to my mouth. “Dante?” I repeated, the name unfamiliar but intriguing.

“Yes. He’s the same age as you, plays on the rugby team. He’s a good kid. Maybe you’ll run into him tomorrow.”

I shrugged, trying to hide my disinterest. I wasn’t really looking for friends, not yet at least. But part of me couldn’t help wondering what Dante Moretti was like.

After dinner, I helped Elena clear the table, then headed back upstairs to get ready for bed. I tried to push away the gnawing worry that twisted in my stomach every time I thought about tomorrow. Instead, I focused on the few remaining things I could control.

As I lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, I wondered if Dante Moretti, or anyone at Westbrook High, could see through the layers of grief and uncertainty I carried with me.

I doubted it. But for now, all I had to do was survive tomorrow. Just one day at a time.