Dear Peter

Chapter1: dear life

Most days, Sophia would sit on her bed, her guitar resting against her lap, fingers moving gently over the strings. Music was the only thing that calmed her thoughts.

"I guess I'm packing now," she sighed, lifting the guitar carefully and placing it aside.

A knock sounded on the door.

Her mother entered the room, her face soft with concern. "Oh, honey," she said gently. "I know you're overwhelmed, thinking about how you'll live your life in college. Everything is going to be alright, I promise you."

"They're just people," Sophia muttered. "Yeah, Mom... people. A lot of people. I find it hard leaving and communicating with people. I was homeschooled."

"I know you were, honey," her mother replied, tapping her shoulder and lifting her chin so she'd look at her. "But trust me, when you're at your weakest, that's when you're actually at your strongest. You're my baby girl, Sophia."

"Mom..." Sophia said shyly, looking away.

Her mother giggled. "You're twenty, Sophia. You've been in your room for decades. Who knows? Maybe you'll meet a boy."

"No, Mom," Sophia said quickly, pushing her hand away. "You know I don't have time for love. I want to be an author, enjoy my life, and play guitar."

Her mother scoffed playfully and pulled her into a hug. "Whatever you say, love. I'm going to pack you some cookies. Get ready and come downstairs."

She walked toward the door, then turned back. "Oh—guess who's driving?"

"Samson?" Sophia asked.

Her mother nodded.

⸻

Sophia finished packing and headed downstairs, then outside to the car.

"Well, look who's ready," Samson said, smiling widely.

Samson was eighteen—lively, cheerful, and full of energy. He adored his sister and understood her fear of people and change. In every way, he tried to comfort her.

Sophia struggled with her luggage. "Aren't you helping me?" she asked.

"You do it yourself," Samson joked. "Put it in the boot."

She giggled as their mother took the luggage and placed it in the trunk.

"I'm driving!" Samson announced proudly.

Sophia climbed into the back seat, slipping her earpiece in. As they drove, she listened to music quietly, staring out the window and enjoying the calm.

⸻

When they reached the college, the car came to a stop.

Samson stepped out, followed by their mother. He opened the back door for Sophia. She looked pale, her head lowered. He tapped her lightly.

She looked up at him, tears rolling down her cheeks.
"I don't want to go, Samson. I don't know these people. I don't want to leave. You're the only friend I have. You mean everything to me."

Their mother sat beside her, and Samson hugged his sister tightly, his own tears falling.

"I don't want you to go either," he said, his voice shaking. "But I promise to visit you, sis."

"I love you," Sophia whispered.

"I love you too," he replied softly, wiping his tears with the back of his hand.

Their mother watched, emotional and proud at the same time, knowing she raised them well.

"Wipe your tears, sis," Samson said gently. "You don't want to walk in looking like you got beaten by a bear."