Between the Lines We Never Said
1. On the Surface
bunny
Hi, I am your author
bunny
It's my first chat story so bear with me 😅
On the surface, they appeared to be a happy family of three.
The dining table was warm with morning light, sunlight spilling gently across polished wood. Plates clinked softly. The smell of toast and coffee filled the room — familiar, comforting.
Mom laughed at something Dad whispered into her ear.
Dad kissed her forehead like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Public displays of affection — casual, easy, practiced.
Lucia Moretti
Eat properly
The eldest child sat confidently, talking about his final year in business management. An internship at a reputed company. Plans to start his own firm. Markets. Numbers. Stability.
Everyone nodded approvingly.
The second child, in his third year of college, spoke next — tech-focused, ambitious, already dreaming of startups and innovation. Dad listened closely. Asked questions.
And then there was her.
The youngest.
She sat quietly, fingers tracing the edge of her plate. She loved art — not as a hobby, but as a language. Colors. Lines. Meaning. The way feelings could exist without permission
Lucia Moretti
Classes going well
That was all.
No one asked what she was working on.
No one noticed the graphite smudge on her thumb.
No one asked why her notebooks were always full.
The laughter continued.
The family looked perfect.
She smiled — because smiling was easier than explaining.
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That's all for today
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Decisions Already Made
Dad said casually, clearing his throat,
Giovanni Moretti
We were talking about your future
Lucia Moretti
You’re a topper
Lucia Moretti
With your grades, business would be a smart choice
Riccardo Moretti
Art is risky
Riccardo Moretti
You need something secure
Lucia Moretti
And that’s fine, but passion doesn’t always pay bills
Elena Moretti
It’s not a hobby for me
Giovanni Moretti
You can keep art on the side,Just choose something stable.
The word side sat heavily.
She nodded.
The conversation shifted immediately. Plans resumed. Plates were cleared. Chairs scraped back.
Everyone moved on.
Elena stayed seated for a moment longer, staring at the table.
Agreeing was easier than explaining.
And silence — once again — felt safer than the truth.
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That's all for today
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It would motivate me😌
3. What Remains
Her room welcomed her with silence.
The door clicked shut behind her, gently but decisively, as if the rest of the house had agreed to stay on the other side. The air felt still here. Safe. Familiar. She dropped her bag near the door, not bothering to place it properly.
Her sketchbook slid out and landed softly on the floor.
Elena stared at it.
For a few seconds, she didn’t move. Then she bent down, picked it up, and sat on the edge of her bed. The cover was worn at the corners, pages thick with pencil marks, smudges, half-finished ideas. Evidence of time spent being honest with herself.
She opened to a blank page.
Too white. Too quiet.
Her fingers reached for the pencil without thinking. The first line was light, almost unsure. Then another. Slowly, something began to take shape — curves, shadows, a face that wasn’t anyone she knew but felt familiar anyway. Drawing always did this to her. It slowed the world. Gave her a place to breathe.
For a moment, she forgot the dinner table.
Then her mother’s voice crept in.
Passion doesn’t always pay bills.
Her pencil hesitated.
Riccardo’s words followed.
It’s risky.
Her hand pressed harder than it should have. She erased, too roughly. The paper crumpled slightly under the force.
Giovanni’s voice came last.
Choose something secure.
Her chest tightened.
Elena Moretti
What’s the point?
She whispered, the words barely audible.
She stared at the half-formed sketch. Something that once felt alive now looked uncertain, unfinished. Like it was waiting for permission.
Slowly, she closed the sketchbook.
Not in anger. Not in defiance.
Just tired.
She slid it under the bed, where old notebooks and forgotten things rested. Not thrown away. Just… hidden. She lay back, eyes fixed on the ceiling, phone buzzing somewhere nearby. She didn’t reach for it.
Her fingers brushed against a faint smudge of graphite still clinging to her skin.
She didn’t wipe it off.
Some things, even when hidden, refused to disappear.
bunny
I know it's long but pls do read to know what she is feeling
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