Page 3 of His To Unravel
TWO
olivia
Quiet chatter fills The Nook,blending with the soft clinking of mugs and the whir of the espresso machine. I wrap my hands around my coffee, feeling the warmth seep into my skin as I look out the window.
Just outside, students drift past in loose clusters, bundled in light scarves and jackets. They carry themselves with a kind of ease—the quiet confidence of people who know their futures are secured. Family wealth. Connections. Safety nets they’ll never have to question.
I don’t have that. Every step I take at Halford demands purpose. There’s no cushion beneath me, no reassurance that failure won’t set me back in ways I can’t afford. I’m here on a scholarship, and that means there’s no room for carelessness. No second chances. While they mingle on the quad, laughing without a thought, I’m always aware of the line I can’t afford to cross.
The contrast never fails to strike me.
In Ashby, life was simpler. People worked because they had to, not to chase something larger. A steady job, a modest home, a life that didn’t ask for more. But somewhere along the way, myambitions slipped past the borders of that small town, driven by the belief that if I could go further, do more—I should.
Now I’m here—surrounded by privilege, standing on ground I fought for.
My parents always called me their “success story,” the one who would go further than they had, achieve something bigger than our humble family business.
That sense of responsibility was what pushed me through late nights of studying and every scholarship application, each one bringing me closer to a dream that felt almost too big for me to claim. Yet, here I am. At Halford, the place that once seemed so unreachable, with its old stone buildings and sprawling, manicured lawns, threads of privilege woven into every crevice.
I take a slow sip of my coffee, relishing the bitterness, letting it pull me back to the present.
It’s my final year now, and every day feels like the ticking of a clock, a countdown to something I can’t yet fully grasp.
All I know is that I must succeed here. I need to turn my education into something tangible, something that will help my family. My parents always said that I had to be the one to lift us up, to make things better for my younger brothers. It’s an unspoken promise I’ve made, one that presses into my shoulders and winds through my thoughts every time I allow myself to think of home.
I’ve always been good at studying, at focusing on goals, and keeping my head down, but Halford pulls at something deeper. A nagging fear that maybe even the best grades and highest accolades won’t be enough to fill the hollow spaces that have crept up inside of me. I want to succeed, yes, but there’s something else that I can’t quite name… An ache to feel understood beyond my accomplishments, to be seen for who I am beneath the layers of imposed ambition.
A burst of laughter echoes from a nearby table. I glance overand see a few classmates, lost in conversation, seemingly carefree and unencumbered by the weight of expectations I carry.
Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like to move through the world like that, to exist without a voice constantly reminding me that I’m supposed to enable a family’s dreams.
I push aside the thought, annoyed at myself for slipping into self-pity.
I need to focus. This project is important, another step toward securing a future where I’ll land a high-paying job, attain financial security for my family, andfinallybe able to say it was all worth it… ThatIwas worth it.
I glance at the time on my phone. Fifteen minutes until I’m supposed to meet Nathaniel Caldwell, my project partner.
I’ve barely thought about him outside of our work. He’s…fine.
Intelligent, obviously, or he wouldn’t be here. And good-looking, I suppose, though I’ve never let that be a distraction.
Handsome men with sharp minds are a dime a dozen at Halford. But Nathaniel Caldwell? He’s hard to ignore. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t noticed him before. From our brief interaction the other day, there was something about him that stuck with me. Something I can’t quite put my finger on. A calmness, maybe, or the way he seems so assured, so at ease with the world around him. It’s hard to imagine him feeling out of place anywhere.
Unlike me.
I shake my head and stand, letting the weight of my thoughts fall away.
As I head for the door, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the glass—red hair pulled back into a neat ponytail, green eyes bright but tired, shoulders slightly slumped. The look of someone who keeps pushing even when it’s hard.
I straighten my spine and head out, grounding myself in the one thing I can control—getting the work done.
When I getto the library, I find Nathaniel seated at a table near the back. The natural light filters in through tall windows, casting soft shadows over the stacks of books piled beside him. He’s absorbed in his laptop, typing as his gaze flicks across the screen with immense focus.
He looks up as I slide into the seat across from him, his expression shifting from cool concentration to a polite nod of acknowledgment.
“Hi, Nathaniel.” My tone is even, professional. All business.
“Olivia,” he replies, his voice smooth and low, weighing each syllable with a kind of attention I’m unaccustomed to. He gestures toward the laptop. “I’ve started compiling some initial research on emerging tech markets. Thought we could dive into it today and flesh out our angle.”
