CHAPTER ONE – THE PERFECT FAMILY
The Owens family looked like everything a person could wish for. Their house stood on a quiet street lined with flowering trees and well-kept lawns—a symbol of comfort and success. To the neighbors, John and Amelia Owens were the picture of grace: a lawyer and a doctor, deeply respected and seemingly happy. Their teenage daughter, Olivia, was polite, intelligent, and beautiful in that quiet, unassuming way that made people want to know her more.
Every morning in the Owens household followed the same routine. John left early for his firm, briefcase in hand and smile perfectly in place. Amelia hurried out not long after, her white coat draped neatly over her arm, the faint smell of coffee and disinfectant clinging to her. Olivia would be the last to leave, usually after her father's goodbye kiss on the forehead and her mother's hurried "Love you, sweetheart," shouted from the car door.
From the outside, they were perfect. But perfection has a way of hiding what hurts.
Most evenings ended in silence—or in arguments muffled by the walls of their spacious home. John and Amelia's love, once a strong flame, had dimmed into something colder. Sometimes they fought about time, sometimes about priorities, but mostly about the growing distance neither of them knew how to cross.
Olivia had learned to sense it. The quiet tension that filled the air before a disagreement, the way her father's voice changed when he spoke to her mother, the way her mother sighed after every conversation. At sixteen, Olivia already understood too much about broken communication.
That Friday afternoon, the air smelled of rain. Olivia came home from school with her best friend, Emma. They laughed as they walked up the front steps, still chatting about a funny scene from science class.
"Your house always smells like vanilla," Emma said as they entered the living room. "I love it here."
Olivia smiled faintly. "Thanks. My mom loves candles."
They dropped their bags on the sofa and started talking about the upcoming school competition. Emma, ever the dreamer, spoke about representing their class, but Olivia's attention drifted toward the ceiling. A muffled sound reached her ears—voices, rising and falling sharply. Her stomach tightened.
Emma stopped mid-sentence. "What's that?"
Olivia's smile faded. "My parents… they're just talking."
It wasn't talking. It was shouting.
The words weren't clear, but the tone was. Her father's voice was deep and stern; her mother's sharp and defensive. Something about late nights at the hospital—something about neglect and priorities. Olivia's throat felt dry.
"Emma," she whispered, standing up suddenly. "You should go. I'll walk you out."
Emma hesitated but didn't argue. "Liv, are you okay?"
"Yeah," Olivia lied. "It happens sometimes."
They stepped outside into the gray afternoon. The sound of thunder rumbled in the distance. Olivia forced a smile as she hugged her friend goodbye, watching her walk down the street before closing the door behind her.
Inside, the argument grew louder.
"You're never here, Amelia!" John's voice boomed from upstairs. "You're always working, always too busy to notice what's happening in your own home!"
"I'm saving lives, John!" Amelia shot back. "You think it's easy? You think I enjoy being away? At least I'm doing something meaningful!"
"And I'm not?" he replied bitterly. "I work for this family too. But lately, I don't even feel like I'm part of it!"
Olivia froze halfway up the stairs, her heart pounding. She wanted to scream for them to stop—but she didn't. Instead, she turned quietly, walked to her room, and locked the door.
The rain began to fall, tapping softly against the window. Olivia sat on her bed, hugging her knees, staring at the photo on her nightstand—a picture of the three of them on a beach years ago. Her mother's hair blew in the wind, her father's arm wrapped around them both, Olivia laughing in the middle. For a moment, she could almost hear the sound of their laughter again.
But that was before everything started to change.
Before work, ambition, and pride took up the spaces where love used to live.
She laid back on the bed, listening to the rain and the muffled argument fading into silence. Somewhere deep inside her, a small seed of fear grew—a fear that maybe love wasn't as strong as people said it was.
And for the first time, Olivia wondered if happy families were only meant for storybooks.