"The sky above the port was the colour of television, tuned to a dead channel."

— William Gibson, Neuromancer

The night always felt like a reprieve, as if the stars themselves offered her some kind of quiet protection. The weight of the day, the tension that built in the walls of her home, faded into the distance, leaving only the stillness of her thoughts.

Nola had never been the kind of girl who could lose herself in a crowd, never the one who spoke too loudly or demanded to be seen. The moments that made the most sense to her were the ones where she could simply sit in silence, her book in hand, and drift off into the world between the pages.

But tonight, it wasn't enough.

"You can't keep wasting your time with those books, Nola."

Her mother's voice sliced through the kitchen air, sharp and familiar. Nola tensed, gripping her book tighter, her knuckles turning white around the edges. She had come downstairs for a moment of quiet, just a moment. But of course, her mother had to ruin it.

"There's more to life than sitting around with your head stuck in the clouds."

Nola's stomach churned as she kept her eyes fixed on the page in front of her, though the words were beginning to blur. She knew what was coming, the same argument again. It had been brewing all day, and her mother never missed an opportunity to push.

"I don't know why I got you those books in the first place," her mother muttered, shaking her head.

A sigh escaped Nola before she could stop it. "You thought it would be good for me," she said quietly, her voice lacking conviction.

Her mother scoffed, as though the idea was ridiculous. "Well, I didn't mean for it to become an obsession." She gestured to the book like it was something offensive. "Honestly, you're 14 now. You should be doing more with your time than sitting around with your nose in a book."

Nola could feel her patience thinning, like a thread about to snap. "I help around the house, don't I? And I'm doing fine in school. Why does it matter if I like to read in my spare time?"

Her mother's response came swiftly, like she'd been waiting for the chance. "Because there's more to life than hiding away in your little world."

Before Nola could defend herself, Olivia strolled into the kitchen, her face twisted with annoyance. "Mom, have you seen my jacket? I bet Nola's moved it again."

Nola shot her a glare, frustration bubbling to the surface. "I didn't touch your jacket, Liv."

Olivia crossed her arms, unfazed. "You're always messing with my stuff. You probably don't even remember."

And just like that, Clara walked in, wearing the jacket in question, oblivious to the tension. "What's going on?"

Nola arched an eyebrow, pointing at Clara. "There's your jacket, Olivia."

Olivia turned to Clara, her face flushing with irritation. "Clara, that's my jacket! Why are you wearing it?"

Clara blinked, looking down at herself like she hadn't noticed. "Oh... I thought it was mine."

"Sure you did," Olivia snapped, holding out her hand. "Give it back."

Clara sighed, pulling off the jacket and tossing it at Olivia. "Fine."

The two of them marched out of the room, bickering under their breath as their voices faded down the hallway. The silence that followed was heavy, almost suffocating. Nola wished they had taken her mother with them.

"You should go to that party with them," her mother said suddenly, as though the thought had just occurred to her.

Nola rolled her eyes. "I don't care about that stuff."

"Well, you should," her mother snapped, her tone growing sharper. "People are watching, Nola. And they notice when you're off in your own little world."

"Who cares what people think?" Nola shot back, her voice rising with the heat of frustration. "Why does it always have to matter what other people think?"

Her mother's face hardened, her arms crossing as she leaned against the counter. "Because it does! That's how the world works. You can't just go through life ignoring how people see you. People talk, and they notice when you don't meet their expectations."

Nola clenched her fists, feeling the weight of every word pressing against her. "I don't care about their expectations. I'm not like you or Olivia or Clara. I don't want to fit into everyone's mold."

Her mother took a step closer, her voice dropping to that cold, sharp tone Nola hated. "Don't you raise your voice at me."

The words burst out before Nola could stop them. "You don't understand me at all. I'm not like you."

"Maybe if you tried—" her mother began, but Nola didn't let her finish.

"I don't want to try! I don't want to be like you!"

Her mother's face went pale, her lips thinning into a tight line as she studied Nola for a moment. "I see," she said slowly, her voice cold. "You think you're better than us now? Too good for this family?"

"That's not what I—"

"Yes, it is," her mother interrupted, her grip on the counter tightening. "You think you can just do whatever you want and ignore your responsibilities?"

"I'm not ignoring anything! I just want to be myself, but you won't let me!"

Her mother's expression hardened, her eyes narrowing. "Maybe if you stopped being so selfish, you'd see I'm trying to help you. But you never listen."

"I don't want your help."

And with that, Nola turned and stormed out of the kitchen, her chest tight with unshed tears. The door slammed behind her, and her mother's voice followed her into the night.

"Nola! Don't you dare walk away from me!"

But she kept walking, faster and faster, her heart pounding with frustration. She just needed to be somewhere else. Anywhere but that house.

Nola felt like a stranger, even in this small town where everyone knew each other. There weren't many places to hide, but somehow she always felt invisible, drifting on the outskirts of her own life. People noticed her, but not in the way they did with her sisters. Olivia and Clara thrived in a world Nola didn't understand, where they could walk down the street and have someone wave or call out their name. There was always someone to chat with, to share a laugh.

For Nola, the interactions were fleeting—half-hearted nods, small smiles. People acknowledged her, but never really saw her. It didn't help that she was shy, too quiet for most to notice. Her reserved nature made it difficult for others to approach her, and even when they did, conversations fizzled out quickly.

She wasn't unattractive. Her auburn hair caught the light in a way that people sometimes complimented, and her pale skin had a delicate softness. But Nola was bigger than most girls her age, and it set her apart in ways she couldn't ignore. It made her feel different, even when no one said it out loud.

She had tried once, during a summer bonfire, to fit in. She had stood by the fire, listening to the conversations around her, laughing when others laughed, but it felt forced. No matter how hard she tried, the gap remained. The jokes didn't resonate, the stories felt distant. She was surrounded by familiar faces but felt utterly alone.

Nola told herself it didn't matter, that she preferred her books, but even that had started to feel like an excuse. Deep down, she longed for the ease her sisters had, the way they slipped into conversations without effort. But she didn't know how to bridge the gap between herself and everyone else.

As she walked through the quiet streets, her mind replayed the argument with her mother. The houses on either side glowed softly, their windows lit with the warmth of families inside. Nola's pace quickened as if she could outrun her frustration, but the weight of it stayed with her, clinging to her like the heavy clouds overhead.

She turned down a narrow path she didn't usually take, the trees growing denser as the sounds of the town faded behind her. Nola wasn't sure why she chose this direction, only that she needed to be somewhere—anywhere—away from home. The cool night air stung her cheeks, but she welcomed it, hoping it might clear her mind.

Eventually, she found herself at the edge of the lake. The water was still, reflecting the faint shimmer of stars above. A small wharf jutted out into the lake, half-hidden by overgrown reeds. It felt like a secret place, one she had stumbled upon by accident.

Nola stood there for a moment, taking in the scene. She couldn't remember ever being here before, though it wasn't far from home. How had she missed this?

The lake was calm, undisturbed by the chaos she had left behind. The tension in her chest began to loosen as she breathed in the cool air. She stepped forward, letting the night breeze brush against her ivory skin, gently blowing her auburn locks. The quiet wasn't stifling like it was at home. Here, it felt peaceful.

She sat down at the edge of the wharf, her legs dangling over the water. The ripples shimmered under the faint light, a gentle reminder that the world was still moving, even when she felt stuck. Her fingertips brushed the surface, the cold water sending a shiver up her arm, but she didn't pull away.

A small water bird—a grebe—glided across the surface, cutting through the water effortlessly. Nola watched, mesmerised by its simple, unhurried movements. It was a life far removed from hers, one of ease and purpose. She imagined what it might be like to move through life that way, unburdened by expectations or the weight of trying to fit in.

Her hand slipped back into the water, sending out ripples that danced in the moonlight. For a brief moment, Nola let herself smile.

Here, she could forget about everything—her family, the town, the constant feeling of not belonging. Here, she could just be.

Here, she could breathe.