The clinking of silverware against dish echoed through the stillness. Lexa stiffly sat at the edge of her chair, her head bowed, her plate growing cold and untouched. Across from her, Meila reclined in her chair, arms folded. Lexa's father, Thomas, gazed over the rim of his wine cup, the weight of his stare like stone resting on her breast.
"So," Meila started, her tone dripping sweet venom. "When do you plan to apply for the NUC? Or are you continuing to pretend you have an option?"
Lexa's lips opened, but she remained silent. She clenched her hands around her fork.
Thomas growled. "Tell me you're not still talking about writing or whatever pointless thing it is we're doing this week."
"She can't even defend herelf," spat Meila. "You're a waste of a brain, is what you are. Just sitting there like some fragile doll—maybe you'd like to remain like that, huh? Beautiful and useless?"
Lexa was absolutely stunning. Long, brown hair and brown, gentle eyes - she was a picture of loveliness. A soothing, gentle aura radiated from her. She was the most attractive of her siblings—a damsel for certain.
Her face grew red, but she kept her eyes fixed on the table.
You will study medicine, as we have agreed. You will amount to something in life. No daughter of mine is going to spend their life sitting at home idle and miserable.
"She should be grateful we're granting her any kind of future at all," Meila repeated, voice growing louder. "All the sacrifices we've made. And you return them like this? With silence?"
Sacrifices? Lexa seethed under her breath. All you've done is tortured the living hell out of me—and have the nerve to say sacrifices? Sacrifices, of all things.
She tried to say something, but her words became lodged in her throat like shackles.
"I." Lexa finally said, but not loud enough.
Say something!" urged Thomas.
"I don't want to be a doctor," she stuttered. "I—I never did. I'm afraid of even looking at blood. I loathe it, I."
For one fleeting instant, only the clock ticked.
Then Meila laughed—a brittle, cold one. "Well, you will get over it eventually. I don't care how you manage."
Thomas stood up, slamming his fist on the table again. "You'll take the exams. You'll go to NUC. Or you'll regret it."
Lexa didn't argue. She didn't cry. She merely nodded.
And looking at the crumpled napkin in her hand, she wondered how much of herself she'd have to fold away before they'd finally be done.
***************************************************
Lexa James was used to being quiet. Not because she wanted to be, but because life had taught her it was safer that way. She moved through the world like a shadow—unseen, unheard, and overlooked by the very people who were supposed to love her.
On the outside, Lexa looked like someone who deserved love. Her wavy brown hair glowed like chestnut in the sunlight, and her dark eyes held a thousand unspoken thoughts. She was beautiful in a quiet, soft way. People often said she had a calming presence. But none of that mattered at home.
Her parents, Meila and Thomas, never truly saw her. To them, she was just something to control, to mold into what they wanted. Kind words were rare. Hugs were even rarer. Instead, she grew up hearing things like "ungrateful," "useless," "waste of space." Over time, those words sank in, and a part of her started to believe them.
Her brothers didn't get the same treatment. They were louder, bolder, easier to love—or maybe just easier to ignore. But Lexa, with her quiet strength and sensitive heart, was the easy target. Her parents mistook her silence for weakness. What they didn't see was that she was fighting battles on the inside—ones they'd never understand.
Lexa didn't want to be a doctor. She wanted to write. To build stories where girls like her could be free, where they could win. But in her home, dreams didn't matter. Her future had already been decided for her. Medicine. No questions asked.
So she stayed silent.
She nodded when expected. Stayed out of the way. Tried not to upset anyone. But inside her, something was stirring—a quiet strength waiting for the right moment to rise.
Because Lexa might've looked fragile, but she wasn't. She was just waiting for the day she could finally breathe.