The sunlight streamed through the tall windows of Trinity's bedroom, casting a soft, golden glow over her face. She squinted against the light as her alarm clock buzzed for the third time that morning. She groaned, smacking the snooze button again, and rolled over, pulling the blanket over her head.
"Trinity, you're going to be late!" her dad's voice called from the kitchen.
She grumbled, throwing the covers off in frustration. She hadn't meant to stay up reading so late, but somehow the night slipped away, like it always did. She swung her legs out of bed and strut across the hardwood floor, glancing out the window. The streets of Paris were already bustling with life. People sipped coffee in sidewalk cafes, and the smell of freshly baked bread from the boulangerie below filled the air.
She and her father had move to from London to Paris after her mom had passed. She was far too young to understand why back then, but the older she got the more she began to realize that it was probably hard on her father to stay in a place that only reminded him of her. It was hard at first, but we ended up becoming closer as a result.
Today was the start of another day, another routine. Another day spent avoiding her growing ire due to the surfacing of her current emotions.
She quickly took a shower and threw on her school uniform, a simple white shirt, plaid skirt, and a dark blazer. Grabbing her bag, she rushed out of her room and into the kitchen, where her dad was nursing a cup of coffee at the counter, his hair a mess of curls.
"Morning, sweetheart," he said with a lopsided grin.
"Morning," she muttered, grabbing a piece of toast. Her dad was trying, he always was. There were just some things he probably wouldn't get. Things like why she has been acting so weird lately, especially around Layla.
Her dad studied her for a moment before leaning forward. "You okay?"
"Yeah," she replied quickly, maybe a little too quickly. She knew he could tell, but thankfully, he didn't push it. He just nodded and took another sip of his coffee.
"Well, if you ever want to talk, I'm here."
"I know," Trinity said softly. "Thanks, Dad."
She grabbed her bag and made a beeline for the door, eager to escape before the conversation went anywhere deeper.
Outside, the crisp morning air brushed against her face, waking her up more than her alarm ever could. She shoved her earbuds in, cranking up her music as she walked down the narrow streets toward school. The familiar cobblestones beneath her feet, the chatter of people, and the honking of distant cars and chitter chatter, all of it was just background noise to her thoughts.
And her thoughts, as usual, drifted to Layla.
Layla was her best friend, the one person who had been there for her through everything. They'd been inseparable since primary school, and now, at sixteen, their bond was even stronger. Layla was bold and confident, always teasing Trinity about her quiet nature. But lately, things had shifted. Or at least, they had for Trinity.
She couldn't stop thinking about Layla, the way her laughter made her heart flutter, the warmth she felt whenever their hands accidentally brushed. She didn't know what it meant, but it scared her. It scared her more than she'd ever admit.
As she neared the school gates, she saw Layla waiting for her by the entrance, her brown curls bouncing as she talked animatedly with a group of classmates. She turned when she spotted Trinity, her face lighting up in that way that always made Trinity's chest tighten.
"There you are!" Layla called, waving her over. "I thought you were going to sleep through the whole morning!"
"Almost did," Trinity said with a weak smile, trying to ignore the heat rising in her cheeks. She fell into step beside Layla as they walked toward their homeroom.
