Chapter 4 A family
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The Good or the Bad
Chapter 4
The soft hum of a bustling cafeteria filled Leah's ears as she leaned closer to Sylvia, her best friend since high school. The two had snagged their usual table by the window, where sunlight spilled onto the polished surface, casting a warm glow across the room.
“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me earlier!” Sylvia’s eyes widened as she leaned in, her curls bouncing with each exaggerated motion. “A masked party? And you danced with a mystery boy? Leah, how are you not swooning?”
Leah rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at her lips. “It wasn’t like that. He was just... nice.”
“Nice?!” Sylvia gawked. “Girl, stop downplaying this. Tell me everything. What did he look like? His voice? What did you talk about?”
Leah paused, her mind wandering back to the previous night, the memory floating back like a dream she didn’t want to forget. The dim lights, the pulsating music that swirled around them like a shared secret, and the way his presence had felt oddly comforting in the chaotic, anonymous crowd. There was something about him—an aura of calm confidence—but not the type that screamed for attention. He was easy to be around, without any of the arrogance that so often came with good looks. “I don’t even know his name,” she admitted, resting her chin in her palm, her thoughts drifting. “But there was something about him—he was confident but not arrogant. And his laugh... it was genuine. You know, like he wasn’t pretending to be someone else.”
Sylvia smirked knowingly. “Ah, you’ve got it bad. Mystery boy’s got you hooked.”
Before Leah could respond, the bell rang, signaling the end of their lunch break. The girls gathered their things, but Leah couldn’t shake the thoughts of the masked stranger, her heart still a little caught in that moment. They headed back to class, their conversation cut short but buzzing with an unspoken promise of more to come.
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The day dragged on, each hour feeling longer than the last. By the time Leah walked through the door of her family’s home, exhaustion weighed heavily on her shoulders. She barely had time to change out of her uniform before her mother’s voice called out from the dining room.
“Leah, dinner!”
With a sigh, Leah trudged to the table, where her parents were already seated, their evening routine as predictable as ever. Her father, ever the businessman, had his phone in one hand while scrolling through reports with the other, barely looking up as she entered. Her mother, poised as always, was slicing into her steak with precision, her movements almost robotic in their exactness.
“Did you hear about the new merger, Leah?” her mother asked, barely looking up from her meal. “Your father and I think it’s a great opportunity for the family business. It could really set you up for the future.”
Leah nodded absentmindedly, pushing her vegetables around her plate, her stomach feeling tight at the thought of her future being mapped out for her. “That’s... great, Mom.”
Her mother’s sharp gaze snapped to her, noticing the lack of enthusiasm in her response. “You could at least show some interest. This is your future we’re discussing, not just some random topic.”
Leah set her fork down with a sigh, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. “Maybe I don’t want my future to revolve around business. Did you ever think about that?” Her voice came out sharper than she intended, the frustration from the entire day coming to a head.
The room grew tense. Her father cleared his throat, eyes flickering toward her, but he didn’t intervene. Her mother’s expression hardened, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Leah, don’t be dramatic. You’ll thank us someday, once you understand the value of this. It’s not about what you want right now; it’s about what’s best for you in the long run.”
Without another word, Leah stood and left the table, her chest tight with frustration. She climbed the stairs to her room, her heart racing. Her parents would never understand her. She didn’t want a life dictated by spreadsheets and board meetings, by constant calculations and forecasts. She wanted freedom—creativity—something more than just the weight of family expectations.
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That night, the moon hung low in the sky as Leah crept out of her bedroom window. The cool night air greeted her, the promise of escape hanging in the crisp breeze. Sylvia’s house was only a few blocks away, but tonight, it felt like a world away from the suffocating confines of her own home. It wasn’t the first time Leah had snuck out, and Sylvia’s family had always been welcoming, a stark contrast to her own.
When she arrived, she peered through the window and saw Sylvia and her family gathered around the dining table. The room was alive with laughter, the warm glow of a chandelier casting a soft light on the scene. It was the kind of atmosphere Leah had always longed for—a place where joy was shared freely, not stifled by unspoken expectations.
Sylvia’s mother spotted her and waved enthusiastically. Moments later, the front door opened, and Sylvia greeted her with a grin. “You couldn’t stay away, could you?”
Leah laughed softly. “I needed an escape.”
Sylvia’s mom called from the dining room. “Leah, come in, dear! You’re just in time for dessert.”
As Leah stepped inside, she was immediately enveloped by the cozy scent of freshly baked goods, the scent of cinnamon and chocolate mixing in the air, and the chatter of a lively family. The dining table was a stark contrast to her own—plates piled high with food, glasses half-full of juice, and an array of mismatched chairs occupied by smiling faces. Sylvia’s dad sat close to her mom, his arm casually draped over the back of her chair, while Sylvia’s ten-year-old twin brothers waged a playful war with their spoons, trying to balance them on their noses.
“Leah, come sit!” Sylvia’s mom gestured to an empty seat beside her. “You’re part of the family tonight.”
Leah hesitated but then took the seat, feeling an unfamiliar warmth spread through her chest. The twins immediately launched into a barrage of questions, their energy contagious.
“Do you have a boyfriend?” one of them asked, his grin mischievous.
Leah chuckled, shaking her head. “No, I don’t.”
The other twin leaned forward, his face serious in a way that made everyone burst into laughter. “Good, because I like you.”
The room erupted in more laughter, and Leah couldn’t help but join in, the weight on her chest lightening with each shared chuckle. The easy camaraderie and light-hearted teasing were a balm to her frayed nerves, something she didn’t realize she’d been craving.
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As dinner progressed, Leah observed the little things that made Sylvia’s family unique. The way her parents shared a glance and laughed at an old joke only they seemed to understand. The way the twins competed to see who could make everyone laugh the hardest. Even the small, unspoken gestures of care—passing the salt without being asked, refilling each other’s glasses—spoke volumes of the deep connection they shared.
When dessert was served—a decadent chocolate cake baked by Sylvia’s mom—Leah found herself smiling more than she had in weeks. The conversation turned to funny childhood stories, and Sylvia’s dad recounted a tale of how he’d once gotten his foot stuck in a tree while trying to impress her mom.
“You should’ve seen her face!” he said, his laughter infectious. “She was torn between helping me and leaving me there to teach me a lesson.”
Sylvia’s mom rolled her eyes affectionately, but her smile was warm. “You’re lucky I’m such a forgiving person.”
Leah’s heart ached in the best way as she soaked in the warmth of the evening. This was what family should feel like—not stiff conversations about mergers and market shares, but genuine connection and joy. The type of happiness that filled every corner of a room, made every meal feel special, and every moment together seem irreplaceable.
When it was time to leave, Sylvia walked her to the door. “You okay?” she asked softly, noticing the distant look in Leah’s eyes.
Leah nodded, her emotions tangled, but for the first time in a long while, there was a flicker of hope in her heart. “Yeah. I think I just needed this.”
Sylvia smiled, pulling her into a quick, tight hug. “You’re always welcome here, you know that.”
As Leah made her way home, she felt a bittersweet mix of emotions. She wanted this kind of warmth in her own family, but she didn’t know how to bridge the gap between them. Still, for the first time in a long time, she felt something she hadn’t expected—hope. Hope that maybe, just maybe, things could be different.
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