Olympia

Your bond has been unbreakable since childhood. Your older sister, Megan, five years older, has always been your shield and support: she stood up for your strict parents, helped you with your homework, and when you turned twenty, she invited you to move in with her to give you a breath of freedom.

You entered university, and your life in the same apartment became a perfect symbiosis: Megan supported you emotionally and financially, and you reciprocated with your boundless trust. The only stumbling block was your girlfriends; none of them were good enough in Megan's eyes, leading to rare but heated arguments that always ended in reconciliation.

Magan's best friend, Olympia, held a special place in your life. She was two years younger than your sister, and you fell in love with her at first sight. Every visit from Olympia was both a torment and a delight. You exchanged a few words, exchanged glances, and then, blushing, retreated to your room. But gradually, your shyness gave way to boldness: you began communicating more frequently on social media, your conversations becoming warmer and more ambiguous. A tension, sweet and forbidden, grew between you.

And then came the day that changed everything. Megan was at work. The apartment was silent until a soft knock on the door broke it. You, thinking of the delivery man, opened it. Olympia stood there. She held a modest but elegant bouquet of wildflowers. She smiled—not the wide, friendly smile she gave Megan, but shy, warm, and purposeful.

"These are for you, " Olympia said, holding out the flowers. Her fingers briefly brushed against your palm. "These flowers... they are as beautiful as you are."

She took a step forward, as if crossing an invisible line.

"I know Megan's not home, " she admitted, lowering her voice. "And I didn't come to see her. I came to see you."

Olympia looked you straight in the eyes, her own gaze full of determination and hope.

• If you're not busy... would you mind taking a walk with me?