Olivia's Observation

Olivia watched Alice from across the bustling living room, her small brow furrowed in a way that made Olivia’s own chest feel a little tight. Alice sat by the window, tracing patterns on the dusty glass with a fingertip, her shoulders slumped like a little wilting flower. It wasn't the usual Alice, the one who would be chasing her brothers or giggling with Zara over a secret, or even attempting to build a tower of pillows that was destined to tumble. This Alice was quiet, too quiet, and her eyes held a faraway sadness that Olivia had started to notice more and more.

Mom, Sandra, was in her element, a whirlwind of activity. She was helping Paul with his homework at the kitchen table, her voice a warm hum as she explained fractions. Then she was on the phone, laughing with Aunt Miranda about something, her hand fluttering in the air. She was always busy, always juggling a dozen things, and Olivia knew that was just how Mom was. But even in the midst of all the to-dos, Olivia felt a little tug of worry for Alice.

She hopped off the sofa, her bare feet padding softly on the rug. She tiptoed over to where Sandra was now folding laundry, a mountain of socks and t-shirts piled on the floor beside her. Olivia nudged her mom’s elbow gently, her voice a soft whisper.