Leah's Bright New Start

Leah and Matthew had just unpacked the last box in their new house—a clean, modern two-story in a quiet suburban neighborhood that smelled like fresh paint and cut grass. The transfer came fast: Matthew's company needed him here for the new regional office, better pay, better title, same old bullshit promises. They left their old life behind in cardboard and duct tape, chasing the illusion that a change of scenery might fix what was rotting between them. The place was nice enough. Open-plan kitchen flowing into the living room, big windows letting in too much light during the day, hardwood floors that echoed when you walked barefoot. Leah loved the backyard view—nothing special, just trees and a fence—but it felt like breathing room after the cramped apartment they'd outgrown. Matthew called it "a fresh start." Leah called it another place to pretend everything was fine INT. LEAH AND MATTHEW'S LIVING ROOM - DAY Sunlight filters through the bay windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. LEAH (23), her dark hair a cascade down her back, smooths the fabric of a simple sundress. Her movements are practiced, almost mechanical. She glances at her reflection in the darkened TV screen. Expressive eyes, a hint of weariness around them. The doorbell rings, a cheerful, insistent chime. Leah opens the door. EMMA (41), her neighbor, stands on the porch, a warm smile creasing her face. Beside her, TIM (18), tall and lean, shifts his weight, his dark, messy hair falling over his eyes. He clutches a worn backpack strap, his gaze fixed on his shoes. EMMA Leah, darling! Just in time. This is Tim. Tim, this is Leah. Leah’s gaze flickers from Emma to Tim. His cheeks, she notices, are already a faint rose. He lifts his head briefly, his eyes—a startling shade of blue—meet hers for a fraction of a second, then dart away. TIM Hi. His voice is soft, a quiet murmur. Leah feels a peculiar flutter in her chest, a sensation she hasn't recognized in years. LEAH It's so good to finally meet you, Tim. Emma’s told me so much. Come in, both of you. Emma steps inside, her bright energy filling the space. Tim hesitates, then follows, his movements almost apologetic. EMMA He's a bright kid, really. Just needs a little push with his advanced calculus. You’re a whiz, Leah, he’ll be acing it in no time. LEAH Calculus is my secret passion. Or it used to be. Leah offers a small, almost wistful smile. She gestures towards the sofa. Tim sinks onto the edge of the cushion, backpack still clutched. He avoids her gaze, eyes tracing the pattern on the rug. EMMA I’ll leave you two to it, then. I’ve got to run to the market before it gets too crowded. Tim, be a good boy. Leah, don’t let him slack off. Emma winks, a knowing glint in her eye, then disappears out the door, leaving a sudden quiet in her wake. The silence stretches, thick and unfamiliar. Leah turns to Tim, a gentle warmth spreading through her. LEAH So, advanced calculus. Fun stuff. Tim’s head snaps up, his blush deepening. He offers a quick, shy smile. TIM Yeah. I… I’m really bad at it. My grades are, uh… not great. LEAH We’ll fix that. No pressure. She sits opposite him, crossing her legs. The sundress rides up, revealing a smooth expanse of thigh. Tim’s eyes, she notices, drop to her legs, then snap back to his backpack, his fingers fumbling with the zipper. Her chest tightens. It’s a familiar feeling, one she’d forgotten existed. A longing. LEAH (CONT'D) Let’s see what you’ve got. Pull out your textbook. He fumbles with the backpack, producing a thick textbook and a spiral-bound notebook. His hands tremble slightly. Leah leans forward, her dark hair brushing her shoulder. A faint scent of her perfume, light and floral, reaches him. LEAH (CONT'D) Okay. Show me where you’re struggling. He opens the textbook, pointing to a page filled with complex equations. His finger hovers, not quite touching the paper. TIM It’s… all of it. I just don’t get the concepts. Leah nods, her gaze kind. She leans closer, her thigh almost brushing his. He flinches imperceptibly. LEAH It’s like a puzzle. We’ll break it down. Piece by piece. She picks up a pen, her fingers brushing his as she takes the textbook. His skin feels warm, surprisingly soft. He pulls his hand back as if burned. LEAH (CONT'D) Don’t worry. You’ll get it. She begins to explain, her voice soft, patient. He watches her, not the textbook. His eyes, wide and earnest, follow the curve of her lips, the subtle movements of her hands. She feels his gaze, a warmth spreading through her veins, tingling between her legs. Later, as the afternoon sun begins to dip, casting long shadows across the room, Tim packs up his books. He’s understood more in this one session than in weeks of classes, but it’s not the calculus that makes his head spin. TIM Thank you, Leah. Really. You make it… make sense. LEAH Anytime, Tim. We’ll do this again next week? TIM Yeah. Yes. Please. He stands, his height suddenly more apparent.