CHAPTER 3
1347 Words
The car slowed down in front of the house before coming to a full stop. For a second, neither of us moved.
I stared through the window, taking it in properly this time. It wasn’t fancy. Not the kind of house that made you stop and stare. Just a simple structure sitting quietly in its space like it had nothing to prove to anyone.
Still… it was bigger than the last place. That alone felt like progress.
Sofia opened her door first, stretching as she stepped out. I followed after her, my shoes crunching lightly against the driveway.
The air outside felt different here—less crowded, more open. Like the world had more room to breathe.
The taxi driver got out too and immediately started grabbing boxes from the trunk.
“Careful, careful,” Sofia warned. “That one has fragile dreams inside it.”
He glanced at her. “If it breaks, I’m not paying for dreams.”
“That’s fair,” she nodded seriously.
He shook his head like he had officially accepted that we were both insane.
We started moving things inside. The house had that empty echo only new spaces have—where every step sounds slightly louder than it should, where even your own voice feels like it doesn’t belong yet.
I lingered in the hallway while Sofia and the driver moved back and forth with boxes. I wasn’t really staying here. Not fully. Just weekends, maybe holidays.
The dorms would take most of my time once college started. Still… I found myself looking around like I needed to make sure the place would treat Sofia kindly when I wasn’t here. Like houses had moods. Like they could decide whether someone felt safe inside them or not.
The front door clicked shut behind me and I turned. Sofia walked in, rolling her shoulders like she was already tired. “Okay,” she said, clapping her hands once. “Let’s start packing—unpacking. Whatever this is.”
She flipped her blonde hair dramatically, and I couldn’t help but laugh under my breath. Her hair caught the light from the window as she moved past me, and for a second I noticed how different we both looked compared to a few years ago.
Mine used to be blonde too. Almost white in the sun. Then I dyed it pink once—just because I liked the color and because I wanted something that felt like mine. After the accident, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I changed it to black. Simple. Quiet.
Easier to hide behind. Now it just stayed that way.
We spent the next couple of hours opening boxes, shifting things around, deciding where nothing really belonged yet.
Sofia argued with furniture like it had opinions. I mostly just followed instructions.
By the time everything was unpacked, the house didn’t feel empty anymore. It just felt unfinished. Like it was waiting for us to figure it out.
Evening had started slipping in through the windows when Sofia finally announced she was cooking. “I refuse to order food,” she said. “We are responsible adults now.”
“That’s new,” I muttered.
“Don’t ruin it.” The kitchen filled with the smell of whatever she was improvising. Something warm, something familiar.
The kind of cooking that didn’t follow recipes but somehow still worked. I leaned against the counter while she moved around, opening cupboards and muttering to herself. When she was done she served us her special delicacy as she liked to call it.
Then I asked as we were seated, “So… are you taking a job?” She paused for a fraction of a second.
That tiny pause said more than her answer probably would. Then she groaned loudly and dropped her head into her palm. “I miss being a teenager,” she said. “By now, me and my best friend would be getting ready to go to a club just to celebrate my breakup.”
I snorted. “That sounds… healthy.”
“It was therapeutic,” she corrected immediately, pointing a spoon at me.
“You are 24.”
“An ancient tragedy.”
I leaned back against the counter, amused. “Too bad you’re an adult now.”
She shot me a glare, but it didn’t last. Not even a second before she laughed. “I’ll probably have to get a job,” she admitted, finally turning back to her food and taking a spoonful. “Or we’ll both end up broke. Noah’s gone, so… yeah. No more comfort funding.”
I watched her for a moment. That part still felt strange. Noah had always been around the edges of our lives. Not fully inside it, not fully outside it either. More like background noise you got used to. Now he wasn’t there at all.
“I think it’s a good thing,” I said lightly. “Your closet was starting to look like a shopping mall anyway.”
She gasped dramatically. “That is slander.”
“Truth hurts.”
She grabbed an extra plate and set it down with exaggerated force. “Or I could just get another rich boyfriend. I’m 24 like you said, I’m still young.”
I laughed before I could stop myself. It came out louder than I expected. “You’re crazy.”
“I prefer emotionally ambitious.” I shook my head, still smiling. For the first time in a while, it didn’t feel forced.
She started clearing the dishes after we ate, humming under her breath like nothing in the world was complicated.
Then she said, casually, “I miss Louise.”
That made me roll my eyes immediately. “Of course you do.”
“She understands me,” Sofia defended. “We had plans.”
“What kind of plans?” She paused.
“Man-based financial strategy.”
I laughed again, despite myself. Louise—her best friend—was exactly the type of chaos Sofia attracted. Always switching boyfriends, always depending on whoever had money, always acting like life was one long joke with no consequences.
The both of them believed that they didn't have to work when they could get a man to sponsor them. However Sofia was kinda different, she was in a serious relationship with Noah. They had been together for two years, that's why I felt guilty about their break up, like it was all my fault.
But Louise was not in any serious relationship, she didn't even have feelings for any of the guys. Last I heard, she was on her fifth boyfriend.
“Yah,” Sofia continued, stacking plates. “I think she might be serious about Paul.”
“As if,” I muttered, heading out of the kitchen.
Sofia smiled behind me like she already knew I didn’t believe it.
When she finished the dishes, she dried her hands and turned off the kitchen light. The house felt quieter now. More settled. We both moved toward the hallway together without saying much.
Sofia disappeared into her room first. I took a shower after her, letting the water run longer than necessary just because it felt good to stand still for a while.
When I stepped out, steam clinging to the mirror, I caught my reflection for a second. Same face. Same scars. Same eyes that always looked like they were waiting for something bad to happen again.
I looked away. Two days. That’s all I had before college started.
Before everything shifted again. When I finally got into bed, the mattress felt unfamiliar under my weight. Not uncomfortable. Just new.
Sofia’s voice drifted faintly through the wall—something about reorganizing furniture tomorrow—but I didn’t respond. I lay there staring at the ceiling.
I knew I was supposed to be nervous. And I was. But underneath it, buried somewhere deeper, there was something else too. Something quieter.
Like the feeling that maybe this place—this new beginning—wasn’t going to fall apart the same way everything else had.
- Writer
