freedom taste like you

Chapter 20

“So… Oakshare University,” Emma said softly, smiling wide as she scrolled through her phone. We’d just finished researching the school together, and now we were standing in the kitchen, making toast on a lazy Friday afternoon.

Oakshare University — the same school Timothy was enrolled in.

From what Emma told me, it hadn’t been easy getting him in. They’d used every connection they had because he wasn’t exactly the “studious type.” He loved football — lived for it — and that was one of the main reasons he’d gotten in.

Apparently, Timothy would rather chase football than chase grades, but his parents believed education should come first. “Football can wait,” Emma had told me earlier with a soft chuckle. “A degree lasts longer than a career in cleats.”

And now, as I stared at the university’s website — the tall glass buildings, the green fields, the library that looked like something out of a dream — I understood why she sounded proud.

I also understood Timothy a bit more now. Maybe he didn’t hate school; maybe he just didn’t fit in there. His world was on the field, not in the classroom.

The thought made me sigh quietly, my fingers tracing the edge of the counter as a small ache built in my chest.

“Amber?” Emma’s voice cut through my thoughts. “You don’t like it?” she asked, her smile faltering slightly as if afraid she’d picked the wrong school for me.

I immediately shook my head. “No— I love it,” I said quickly, forcing a small laugh. “Really, it’s… perfect.”

And it was.

Oakshare wasn’t just beautiful — it offered a major I’d always dreamed of: Law.

I’d finished high school years ago, but that was where my education stopped. My dad didn’t see the point in sending me to college. He said home-schooling would be “enough,” though he barely lasted a few weeks before giving up entirely. I’d always wanted to study Law — to stand up for myself and others who couldn’t — but that dream felt like something I’d buried long ago.

Now, sitting here in Emma’s warm kitchen, it felt like that dream was slowly being uncovered again.

I smiled faintly, staring at the university’s website glowing on Emma’s phone screen. “It’s really nice,” I murmured.

Emma’s eyes softened. “I thought you’d like it.”

We shared our toast quietly for a while, the smell of butter and cinnamon filling the air. Then, footsteps echoed from the stairs — steady, lazy ones — and my heart jumped before I even looked up.

Timothy.

He walked straight into the kitchen, his hair slightly messy, eyes still heavy from sleep. Our gazes met for the briefest moment, and I quickly looked down, pretending to be very interested in my toast.

“Hey, Mom,” he said, stealing the piece of toast she was about to eat and planting a quick kiss on her cheek as a peace offering.

“Timothy,” Emma groaned, dragging out his name but smiling all the same.

He grinned before turning to me. “Hey, Amber.”

I froze, my throat suddenly dry. “Hey, Timothy,” I said softly, smiling awkwardly before stuffing the rest of my toast into my mouth. Smooth.

A few minutes later, Emma’s phone rang. She frowned slightly, glanced at the caller ID, then looked at us. “I’ll be right back, darlings. Don’t burn the kitchen down,” she teased, already walking out.

That left me and Timothy alone. Again.

He leaned casually against the counter, fiddling with a mug. The silence stretched a bit before he finally spoke. “I’ll be going back on Monday,” he said suddenly.

I blinked. “School?” I asked — like an i***t. Of course, he meant school.

He chuckled softly and nodded. “Yeah.”

“Oh.” I smiled a little, unsure what else to say.

He tilted his head, studying me for a second before asking, “You’re coming too, right?” His voice was calm, but there was something hopeful behind it — like he wanted me to say yes.

“I guess,” I said quietly, taking a sip of water to hide my nerves.

He nodded, his grin widening just a bit. “Great. I’ll show you around once we get there.” His tone was lighter, more excited than mine — almost boyish. It made my chest warm.

“Thanks,” I said softly, trying not to stare at how happy he looked.

---

The rest of the day passed in a blur of errands and paperwork.

Emma insisted on handling everything — from contacting the school’s admissions office to setting up the tuition payment plan. She even argued with the registrar over the phone for nearly twenty minutes until they agreed to process my application before Monday.

I’d never met someone who fought for me like that before. Not even my own parents.

By the time the admissions email came through that evening, Emma was practically bouncing. “You’re officially an Oakshare student, sweetheart!” she announced proudly, waving her phone in the air.

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

The next morning, she dragged me out of bed for a “proper student shopping trip.” which i was grateful for. We went to a nearby mall — one of those huge ones that smelled like coffee and new leather — and Emma insisted on buying everything herself, no matter how much I protested.

“Please, Emma, you’ve done enough already,” I said, clutching a shopping bag filled with notebooks.

“Nonsense,” she said cheerfully, waving a hand. “You’re family now.

She got me new jeans, tops, a few dresses, shoes, and even a sleek brown backpack that I fell in love with instantly. We spent nearly the whole afternoon going from store to store, laughing, trying on outfits, and talking about everything except the painful parts of the past.

By the time we returned home, my arms were full of shopping bags and my heart felt impossibly full too.

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That evening, as I folded my new clothes neatly in the wardrobe, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

Same face. Same eyes. But something inside me had changed.

For the first time in a long time, I felt free.

Free to start over.

Free to belong somewhere that didn’t hurt.

And maybe… just maybe… free to fall for the boy who’d made me feel human again.