I turn to find Mia, effortlessly stylish as always, but there's something in her expression—a flash of genuine warmth that catches me off guard. She cradles her coffee cup like precious cargo.

"Mia, hey," I say, brightening despite myself. "Want to sit?"

She smiles, her dark hair catching the light. "Actually, I was just grabbing a quick bite before heading home. You could come over if you're free? It's a ten-minute walk. I could use the company."

There's something in her tone—a hint of vulnerability that makes the invitation feel weightier than casual plans. I pack up my laptop, intrigued by this glimpse beneath her polished exterior.

"Yeah, sure." I had no other plans except maybe drowning in more coffee at home.

Walking with Mia, the conversation flows naturally, though there's an undercurrent of something more, like looking in a mirror and seeing familiar cracks. She opens up about her life: elite boarding schools where success meant perfect scores, relentless academic pressures, and a nomadic existence following her father's business demands. Her stories scatter across continents, each city seeming to have taken a piece of her with it.

When we round the corner, I freeze. The house before us isn't just large, it's something from a luxury magazine. Marble steps gleam, leading to regal columns that stretch skyward. Expansive windows, framed by pristine shutters, reflect the late afternoon light.

"Uhh, this is your house?" I blurt out, unable to mask my astonishment.

Mia gives a small, strained smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "Yeah," she says, typing in a gate code with practiced efficiency. "I know, it's a bit... much."

"Mia, this place looks like it's straight out of The Great Gatsby." I laugh.

Her laugh is light, but her eyes flicker with a mix of pride and resignation as she looks back at her home. "It's beautiful, but being an only child in a house like this sometimes feels like living in a museum where you can't touch anything."

The garden feels staged, too perfect—no weathered decorations, no evidence of life being lived.

Mia's voice drops when she mentions her dad. "He's... intense. Big shot in business. Forbes 100 and all that.”

"You never mentioned your dad was..."

"The CEO of one of the biggest tech companies out there?" Mia finishes, her smirk tinged with irony. "Yeah, I don't usually start with that. Makes people act weird. Like suddenly they're talking to my father's bank account instead of me."

"Forbes 100 is pretty impressive though. "

She exhales heavily. "Honestly, most days I don't even get what he does. Growing up with all this..." She gestures at our surroundings. "Everyone you meet tends to want something from you, not just friendship. It's like being a fancy store display—everyone wants to look, but nobody really sees you."