Page 14 of Our Little Moments

Grabbing it, I head downstairs to hydrate so I can go back to sleep. I’m still barely able to focus and keep my eyes open when I reach the stairs and–-

“We don’t have our electricity bills paid, William!”

I freeze. My mom’s voice is barely above a whisper, but since I’m just above the stairs, I can hear her with perfect clarity.

My heart races. What? It . . . It doesn’t make sense. My parents are the most hardworking people I know . . . how could . . . what—

“Elena, we’re going to fix this soon.”

I can feel my mother relax. Dad and his way with words always had that effect on us, but there’s still tension thick in the air.

I’ve always known we aren’t living the life my parents dreamed of—a bigger house, better cars, a quieter place away from the city. But I keep offering to help, and they always refuse. They never wanted me to work young. They didn’t want me to feel burdened.

I believed them. Now, I wish I hadn’t. I could have helped! I could have done something if I’d known earlier.

It’s not like there’s no job available for kids. I could have found something. I still can now.

“Let’s get some sleep now. We’ll find a solution tomorrow, when we’ve rested,” my dad says gently.

I run back to my room as I hear their footsteps coming closer, my empty glass forgotten.

The door clicks shut behind me, and I know, without a doubt, that I won’t let my parents struggle anymore. Not if I can help it.

Sometimes, I wish I’d kept my childlike innocence. That I hadn’t learned how much my parents were struggling at just nine. That I could have gone on with life peacefully.

But that’s not how my life turned out. I threw myself into my studies, always looking for ways to help. I earned money however I could. It makes me sad to think about those years. How much pressure I put on myself as a child.

A few months after I started helping out financially, I realized how much more I could do to help them with my magic. I started using it daily to restock the fridge, fix anything that was broken, and even to help build a small, comfortable house in a quieter area of the city when I was fifteen.

My mom hated how much I was tiring myself, using my powers to help, but I was stubborn. I wouldn’t let them say no to my help. My dad decided to accept it. He told my mom—when he didn’t think I’d hear—that he knew I was too stubborn to stop, so he wanted to get us into a financial situation where I didn’t have to step in to help. My mom eventually agreed with his strategy.

My parents had to get jobs at a young age, which is why they were so firm that I wouldn’t start working until I finishedstudying. They didn’t want me to have the life they’d lived. They never wanted me to start competing, but when I told them I just wanted to “do it for fun,” they let me. Neither of them had magical abilities and they wanted to be open-minded, to let me follow my dreams.

It’s heartbreaking how dreams can fade away the second you wake up and reality catches up to you.

Chapter 6

Stella

Iquickly settle into a routine in Westwood Spring. I’m practically never in my room. I wake up, explore the town, and come back to my room to sleep. This town has a magic that’s hauntingly beautiful. It’s as if every corner, every shop, every individual, hides a secret that they’re waiting for me to uncover.

It’s new and exciting.

I come out of one of the shops, yet again fascinated by the way they use their powers, then freeze when I spot what looks like construction workers atop a nearby building.

Massive trees shoot up between buildings, their trunks twisting and stretching. Vines slither upward, coiling into intricate patterns. Magic hums in the air, and I can’t help but grin. I’m mesmerized. It’s so unlike what I’m used to seeing. I cross the street, eager to get a closer look.

A voice calls down from above. “Hey there!”

Startled, I glance up to see a man leaning casually over the edge of the roof, grinning at me.

“Hi,” I call back, stepping closer.

Before I can ask him anything, he jumps. My breath lodges in my throat.

But a gust of wind catches him, carrying him down in an elegant arc. He lands with the grace of someone used to defying physics.

I blink.He controls the wind.

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