The Chicago skyline was just catching the first rays of dawn as Olivia jogged through the crowded underpass near Lake Shore Drive, her sneakers slapping the pavement. Four months pregnant, she felt a quiet gratitude—no morning sickness today, thank goodness, so she could still manage her shifts at the coffee shop in the Loop. But the fatigue? That was relentless. Getting out of bed each morning was a struggle, and she often found herself racing to work. The underpass buzzed with commuters, street performers strumming guitars, and the familiar group of unhoused people near the exit. There was Jimmy “Patch,” Mr. Thompson, and a few others, hands out, hoping for change.
Olivia couldn’t just pass by. Her heart tugged at their plight. When she had a few dollars, she’d swing by Starbucks to grab a hot coffee and a muffin to share. Their faces would brighten, their thanks heartfelt. The nearby vendors, though, weren’t so kind. They’d scoff, rolling their eyes.
“Crazy kid,” one muttered. “Pregnant, barely getting by, and she’s feeding those drifters? They’ll just spend it on liquor.”
They didn’t understand. Olivia knew the sting of having nothing—no home, no family, no one to care. She saw her own past in their weary eyes. Sure, some drank to cope, but who wouldn’t? Standing in the biting Chicago wind, ignored by the world rushing to warm homes—that’d break anyone. Olivia gave a quick nod to the group, then noticed a newcomer. A young man, early thirties, with tousled hair and a crutch propped under one arm. He didn’t beg, just gazed into the distance, a faded Cubs cap on the ground for coins. Something about him struck her. I’m stressing about my life, and this guy’s missing a leg, yet he’s here, pushing through.
Her emotions surged. She darted to Starbucks, grabbed a warm blueberry muffin and a steaming latte, and handed them over.
“Here, take these. From me to you. Enjoy,” she said gently.
His cheeks reddened, and he murmured, “Thanks,” eyes dropping, shy but appreciative.
Not wanting to linger, Olivia smiled and hurried off. But the moment stirred old memories. Her childhood flooded back—a mom lost to addiction, a home steeped in chaos and hunger. She could still smell the stale whiskey and cigarette smoke, see the cluttered sink, feel the sharp slap when she asked for food. She’d scavenge leftovers, eating fast before anyone noticed. At five, a kind neighbor, Mrs. Davis, called Child Services. Olivia was whisked to a foster home, sobbing for a mom who didn’t care she was gone.
Life in the Chicago foster home wasn’t perfect. Rules were strict, meals were plain, and mistakes meant extra chores. But no one hit her like her mom did. Some kids got visits from relatives, bringing candy or small toys. Olivia got one visit from Mrs. Davis, who gave her a bag of CVS gummy worms. Her mom never came. That pain stuck with her, and she vowed never to abandon her own child, no matter what.
School was her refuge. Olivia had a gift for math—numbers clicked like puzzle pieces. After aging out of foster care at 18, the state gave her a cramped apartment in a rough building on South Side’s 79th Street. The place was rundown—creaky floors, chipped paint, a musty couch. But it was hers. With her friend Emily, Olivia took a leap and applied to college. No money, no connections, just determination. To her surprise, she landed a scholarship to DePaul University’s business program, thanks to her top grades.
Her dorm was a step up, shared with two girls, Ava and Sophia, from wealthy suburbs. They lived for parties and skipped classes, while Olivia studied hard at the library. They teased her constantly.
“Come on, girl!” Ava laughed, flipping her hair. “It’s spring, the bars are hopping, and you’re buried in books? Loosen up!”
“Nope,” Olivia replied, pushing up her glasses. “Exams are soon, and I can’t mess up. I’ve got no safety net.”
Sophia smirked. “Fine, but you’re sharing your notes, right? We’re outta here!”
Olivia’s focus paid off—she aced her first year with straight A’s, finishing finals early. Ava and Sophia barely passed and were bitter about it.
“Lucky geek,” Sophia grumbled. “She’s not better than us, Ava. Just got lucky.”
Jealous, they schemed to humiliate her. Summer break hit, and the dorms cleared out. Olivia stayed—no family, nowhere to go. She kept studying at the library. One day, Ava and Sophia showed up, all smiles.
“Hey, Olivia!” Sophia chirped. “We’re hitting a cookout by Lake Michigan. Seniors, burgers, music—the whole deal. Don’t tell us you’re studying on break!”
Olivia hesitated. She wasn’t close with them, but a sunny day by the lake sounded tempting after months of stress. Plus, she was lonely. “Okay, I’m in,” she said, a smile breaking through. Why stay cooped up when summer was calling?
Ava and Sophia’s plan was cruel. Everyone knew Olivia didn’t drink or party—she was the “good girl” who kept to herself. They wanted to get her drunk at the cookout and make her look foolish, just to take her down a notch. Olivia had no idea. She imagined a relaxed day by Lake Michigan—good food, music, maybe new friends.
When they arrived at Sophia’s family’s lakehouse in Wilmette, Olivia’s heart sank. This wasn’t a simple barbecue. The place was packed with rich kids—guys in designer shirts, girls in tiny dresses, blasting music and downing beers. Coolers brimmed with hard seltzer and cheap tequila. Olivia felt out of place in her thrift-store jeans and plain top. Ava and Sophia were in their element, giggling about Instagram and hookups, slipping tequila into Olivia’s lemonade when she wasn’t looking.
After a few sips, Olivia’s head spun. The world blurred, her legs unsteady. “I don’t feel right,” she mumbled, trying to stand. She tripped over a cooler and fell face-first into the grass. Laughter exploded—harsh and mocking.
“Look at Miss Perfect!” Sophia cackled, filming with her phone. “Thought she was above our epic party, huh?”
Olivia’s face burned with shame. She struggled up, grass on her jeans, tears in her eyes. The crowd kept laughing—except for one guy. A tall, athletic senior with warm eyes pushed through, offering his hand. “You okay?” he asked quietly. But Sophia cut in. “Oh, she’s fine! Just can’t handle a real party!”
Humiliated, Olivia brushed him off and stumbled away, heart racing. “Screw you guys!” she shouted, voice breaking. “Some friends!” She staggered toward the road, lost in Wilmette, miles from DePaul. Her scraped knee ached, and she cursed herself. Why did I trust them? I knew they were fake.
Headlights flashed. A worn Toyota slowed, and the same guy leaned out. “Olivia, hold up! I’ll drive you back to campus. I’m Noah, senior, business major. You don’t need to walk alone.”
She froze, wary. He seemed sincere, but she was done trusting. “I’m fine,” she snapped, voice shaky. It was dark, and she was drained. Noah’s eyes softened. “Come on, I’m not a jerk. You shouldn’t be out here alone.”
Something in his voice made her pause. His steady gaze felt safe. Wiping tears, she got in, muttering, “Fine, let’s go.”
Noah kept his eyes on the road, his voice calm as he drove to DePaul. “Don’t let those idiots get to you,” he said, glancing over. “Ava and Sophia? They’re just spoiled brats who think money makes them cool. Without their parents’ cash, they’re nothing. You, though? You’ve got something real—smarts, drive. I heard you’re crushing it in class. That’s special.”
Olivia stared out the window, her knee stinging. She wanted to stay angry, but Noah’s words hit home. “I’m just a foster kid,” she muttered. “No rich parents to save me. I’m not like you or them. Why do you care?”
Noah chuckled. “You think I’m some rich frat guy? Nope. Scholarship kid, too. Work two jobs to get by. I care because you’re real. You don’t pretend to fit in. That’s why I noticed you.” He grinned. “Plus, you were fierce, yelling at those losers back there.”
Olivia’s walls cracked, but she snapped, “Don’t mess with me, Noah. I’m not your pity project.” Her voice trembled, but her heart raced. His confidence, his warm smile—it threw her off.
Noah shook his head. “No games, Olivia. I mean it.” Then, out of nowhere, he leaned over and kissed her cheek, quick and warm.
Olivia froze, her face flushed, pulse pounding. No one had ever made her feel so seen, so wanted. For a moment, she forgot the pain, the shame, everything.
Back at the dorm, Noah was all she could think about. She saw his strong jaw, smelled his pine cologne, felt that kiss. Get it together, Olivia, she told herself. He just felt sorry for you. He’s probably moved on. But her heart wouldn’t let go. In class, her notes turned into doodles instead of equations.
A week later, Noah found her outside the DePaul Student Center, backpack slung over his shoulder. “Hey, Olivia,” he said, a bit shy. “Wanna grab coffee at the Starbucks on Fullerton? Like, a real date. Just us.”
Her stomach flipped. Every instinct said to say no—she didn’t date, didn’t trust guys like him. But his warm, hopeful eyes broke her defenses. “Okay,” she blurted, then cringed at her eagerness. “I mean, sure, cool.”
That night, Olivia stood in front of her dorm mirror, trying three outfits. She picked a denim skirt and a cute top from Goodwill, fussing with her hair. Her hands shook as she applied lip gloss. It’s just coffee, she thought. But deep down, she knew it was more—her first real date, with Noah.