Notes:

"You know, I've been thinking… life would be a whole lot easier if it came with background music. Imagine strolling into a scene, and boom, your personal soundtrack kicks in. No awkward silences, just pure cinematic vibes."

"Anyway, cue the dramatic music."


"Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?"

— Mary Oliver, The Summer Day

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 always 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 was not that night.

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"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 wearing thin, like a thread ready to snap. "I help out, don't I? I'm doing well in school. What's so wrong with spending my time reading?"

Her mother's reply came sharp and fast, like she'd been holding onto it. "Because life is about more than burying yourself in books."

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 precious jacket."

Olivia turned to Clara, her face flushing with irritation. "Clara, that's mine! 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 their 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 retorted, her voice sharpening. "People notice, Nola. My friends ask all the time why you're always lost in your head."

Nola's frustration flared. "Why does it matter what they say?"

Her mother crossed her arms, her expression hardening. "Because that's how life works. People talk, they make judgments. You can't just float through life like nothing matters."

Nola clenched her fists, feeling the weight of every word pressing against her. "I'm not like you or Olivia or Clara and I don't want to fit into a 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."

"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!"

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.

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Nola felt like a stranger, even in this small town where everyone knew each other. 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.

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. 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. Her fingertips brushed the surface of the water, the cold 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.

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Over the years, Nola found herself returning to the lake more often than she cared to admit. It was her safe space - far away from the chaos of her home and the constant, subtle jabs from her family. Tension between her and her mother had only deepened with time, their conversations growing more strained, their silences even heavier.

"You waste so much time with those books, Nola," her mother would say, voice laced with frustration. "When are you going to do something that is actually useful?"

Her sisters weren't any better. Olivia always found a way to make a cutting remark sound playful. "You really don't know how to have fun, do you?" She'd smirk, tossing her hair as if the world revolved around her. "Maybe if you spent more time with us, people wouldn't think you're so... odd."

And then there were the comments about her appearance. "You know, Nola, you'd look so much better if you tried a little harder," Olivia would say, her eyes lingering on Nola's plain clothes with obvious judgment. Clara, never one to miss out, would chime in with something equally unkind, just for good measure.

She tried to brush off their remarks, but the weight of the constant feeling that she was unwanted, of never quite fitting in, only grew, each and every day.

Now, years later, she found herself back at the lake on another quiet evening. The air was cooler than usual for this time of year, carrying the crisp scent of damp grass. She sat at the start of the old wooden wharf, legs crossed on the wooden planks, gazing up at the stars that glittered faintly above. The book she'd brought with her sat forgotten at her side. The stillness of the night, the reflection of the stars on the calm lake, were enough to soothe her mind after yet another long day at home.

She breathed deeply, letting the cool air fill her lungs. Here, at least, the weight seemed to lift, if only for a little while.

Just as Nola was starting to lose herself in the tranquility, a rustling sound came from the nearby trees. She sat up, but before she could even look through the dark to see what it was, a startled shout echoed through the night—followed by a huge splash that reverberated across the water.

"What the—"