Under the Stars

Chapter 7

~CHAPTER SEVEN~

I walk home, the weight of the day's events pressing down on me. The sun has set, casting long shadows along the quiet streets. My mind races with thoughts of Carl, Charles, and the unexpected interactions that seem to keep piling up.

As I open the door to our small house, the familiar creak echoes through the hall. The aroma of a simple dinner wafts from the kitchen, but there's an unusual stillness. I step inside and close the door quietly, not wanting to wake my sister.
In the kitchen, I find my mom hunched over the table, papers and bills spread out before her. She's wearing her reading glasses, and her brow is furrowed in concentration. The soft light from the overhead lamp casts a warm glow on her tired face.

“Mom, I'm home,” I say softly, trying not to startle her.

She looks up, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Lyla, why are you so late? It's almost 8 o'clock.”

I hesitate, debating how much to tell her. “It's a school thing. We had to work on a project after class.”

Her expression softens a bit, but the worry lines remain. “You know you should call if you're going to be late. I was worried.”

“I'm sorry, Mom. I lost track of time,” I say, guilt gnawing at me. “How was your day?

She sighs, pushing her glasses up her nose. “Busy, as always. Your sister is asleep already. She missed you at dinner.”

A pang of guilt hits me. I hate missing time with my little sister, especially when she looks up to me so much. “I'll make it up to her tomorrow.”

Mom nods, her focus drifting back to the bills. “I hope this project is worth it. You need to keep your grades up, Lyla.”

“I know, Mom. I'm working hard on it,” I assure her, though the pressure feels overwhelming. “Is there anything I can help with?”

She shakes her head. “Just get some rest. You have another long day tomorrow.”
I nod, giving her a small smile.

“Goodnight, Mom.”

“Goodnight, Lyla.”

I head to my room, the weight of the world still on my shoulders. As I pass my sister's room, I peek in to see her sleeping peacefully, her favorite stuffed animal clutched in her arms. I close the door quietly and retreat to my own room, collapsing onto my bed.

Staring at the ceiling, I replay the day's events in my mind. Carl’s unexpected kindness, Charles’s teasing, and the strange feeling of being caught between two worlds—one where I'm constantly on guard and another where I might just find a bit of solace.

Before I can drift off to sleep, my phone buzzes with a message. It's from Carl.

Carl: “Great job today. Looking forward to the next scene. It's okay if you don't reply back :)”

I feel a smile creeping onto my face, but then I catch myself. My eyes widen in surprise. What am I doing? Why am I smiling because of Carl? I shouldn't be feeling this way. And how did he even found my account??oh right social media thing. I shake my head, trying to dispel the thoughts. It's just a school project, nothing more.

Despite my efforts, I can't help but feel a small flicker of something—something I don't want to admit to myself. I sigh and put my phone down, trying to push the feelings aside.

As I close my eyes, I take a deep breath, letting go of the day's stress. Despite the challenges, there's a small spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, things can get better.

But for now, I'll focus on getting some rest. Tomorrow is another day, and I'll need all the strength I can muster to face it.

...

After we wrap up the shoot at the cafe, I help Lyla pack up the equipment. My mom, ever the supportive one, beams at us as she wipes down the counter.

“You two did a great job,” she says, giving me a wink. “The cafe looked like a real movie set.”

“Thanks, Mom,” I reply, feeling a bit embarrassed but grateful. “And thanks for letting us use the place.”

“Anytime sweetheart” my mom smiled
I talk to Lyla about something and she just remind me that Actions speaks louder than words. I turn to face my mother again after she left;

“So she is the girl we've been talking about way back at the gym?” she says, her tone teasing.

I chuckle, shaking my head. “Yeah mom, that’s her.”

“She seems...very interesting like what I said before,” Mom continues, her eyes twinkling. “And quite different from your usual friends.”

“Yeah, she is,” I admit. “But in a good way.”

We get into the car, and as we drive home, Mom can’t resist probing further.

“Your starting to like her, don’t you?”

I laugh, a bit flustered. “Mom, it’s not like that. We’re just working on a project together.”

She raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Sure, if you say so. But I saw the way you look at her and talk to her”

“Mom,” I groan, trying to change the subject. “Let’s just talk about something else, okay?”

She laughs, patting my arm affectionately. “Alright, alright. But just so you know, she seems like a nice girl. Different, but nice.”

I nod, appreciating her support. “Yeah, she is.”

As we drive through the quiet streets, the conversation lulls into a comfortable silence. Then, my mom speaks up again, her tone more serious this time.

“You know, Carl, your father would be so proud of you,” she says softly.

I glance at her, feeling a lump form in my throat. “You think so?”

She nods, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“Absolutely. He always wanted you to be happy and to follow your passions. Seeing you work so hard on this project...he would have been over the moon.”

I swallow hard, the familiar ache of loss hitting me. “I miss him, Mom.”

“I know, sweetheart,” she says, reaching over to squeeze my hand. “I miss him too. But he’s always with us, watching over us. And he’d be so proud of the young man you’re becoming.”

“Thanks, Mom,” I say, my voice thick with emotion. “That means a lot.”

We drive the rest of the way home in reflective silence, the weight of my father’s absence both a comfort and a sorrow.

When we finally pull into the driveway, I take a deep breath, feeling a renewed sense of determination. I want to make my father proud, and I want to be there for people like Lyla, who might need a friend more than they let on.