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Petal’s POV

"Petal, if you are up, get ready for college. It’s already late!" yelled my mom from the kitchen downstairs. Her voice jolted me awake, and I groggily glanced at the clock on my nightstand. It was already past 8 a.m., and my classes started at 9. Thankfully, my college was only a 15-minute walk from home. But that was irrelevant since Dad always insisted on dropping me off on his way to work. He’s a professor at the same university, which often feels like both a blessing and a curse.

Stretching lazily, I swung my legs over the bed and trudged to the bathroom. As the cool water splashed over my face, I slowly started feeling more awake. My mom’s voice rang in my ears again, reminding me to hurry up. It wasn’t unusual for her to be the most organized person in the family, juggling everything at home while still keeping tabs on everyone else’s schedule.

My family is the heart of my world. We’re five members: Mom, Dad, my elder brother, my younger brother, and me. My elder brother is abroad, pursuing his dream job, and we’re all so proud of him. My younger brother, on the other hand, is still in college and a constant source of mischief in my life. He loves to tease and annoy me at every opportunity, but I know deep down he’s just being a protective little devil.

After finishing my morning routine, I rummaged through my wardrobe, finally settling on a pair of blue jeans, a brown crop top, and a matching shrug. Casual but stylish enough to get me through the day. Satisfied, I grabbed my bag and headed downstairs. The smell of freshly cooked breakfast greeted me, and my stomach growled in response.

Mom was setting plates on the table as I joined my parents for breakfast. Dad was sipping his tea, reading the newspaper like he always did every morning. "Good morning," I greeted them with a small smile, sitting down to eat. Mom had prepared my favorite toast and scrambled eggs, and I wasted no time digging in.

By the time we finished, it was already 8:40. “Come on, Dad, let’s go,” I urged, slinging my bag over my shoulder. He nodded, and we both headed to the car. The drive to college was quiet but comforting. Dad wasn’t much of a talker in the mornings, and I appreciated the silence as I mentally prepared myself for the day ahead.

Once at the university, I thanked Dad and walked toward my building. My first lecture was physics, and I wasn’t exactly thrilled about it. I chose a seat in the middle row—close enough to hear the professor but far enough to avoid catching their attention. As I pulled out my notebook, I glanced over my schedule. Physics first, then math. It wasn’t the most exciting lineup, but it wasn’t the worst either.

The lecture began, and I tried my best to focus, scribbling notes as the professor droned on about concepts I already felt lost in. My best friend, Samy, sat beside me, and I could tell she was just as uninterested as I was. Her real name is Samaria Smith, but everyone calls her Samy. We’ve been best friends since the first day of our first year. I still remember how we met. I had nervously entered the classroom, scanning the rows of unfamiliar faces, and ended up sitting next to her. We exchanged hesitant greetings, and before I knew it, we were chatting about random things. That simple conversation turned into a bond that has only grown stronger with time.

Samy nudged me, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Bored already?” she whispered, smirking.

“You have no idea,” I replied, rolling my eyes. We shared a knowing glance, both silently counting down the minutes until the lecture ended.

Finally, the professor wrapped up, and I let out a relieved sigh. But the relief was short-lived as I remembered we still had math next. My mood dipped even further. I wasn’t bad at math, but sitting through long, monotonous lectures wasn’t exactly my idea of fun.

During the break, Samy and I grabbed a quick snack from the cafeteria and caught up on each other’s lives. She told me about her weekend trip with her family, and I shared a few stories about my annoying younger brother. It was moments like these that made college life bearable—having someone to laugh and vent with.

When it was time for math, we reluctantly made our way back to the classroom. I chose the same seat as before, trying to get comfortable for another hour of mind-numbing explanations. As the professor started writing equations on the board, my mind wandered to more pleasant thoughts. I thought about my hobbies—sketching, drawing, and painting. They were my escape, my way of expressing myself. I could spend hours lost in a world of colors and lines, creating art that spoke to my emotions.

I also loved reading stories on W*****d. There was something magical about diving into a fictional world and experiencing the characters’ lives. It was inspiring, in a way, and I often found myself wondering if I could create such captivating stories someday. For now, though, I was content being a reader, letting those stories fuel my imagination.

“Petal, pay attention!” Samy whispered, nudging me again. I quickly straightened up, pretending to be engrossed in the professor’s lecture. She chuckled softly, knowing exactly what I was doing.

The lecture dragged on, and by the time it ended, I felt completely drained. All I wanted was to go home, curl up on my bed, and let the day’s exhaustion melt away. I packed my things and waved goodbye to Samy as we headed in different directions. She had another class, but I was done for the day.

Walking out of the building, I spotted Dad waiting near the car. As always, he was punctual, and I appreciated his unwavering support. I climbed into the passenger seat, letting out a tired sigh.

“Rough day?” he asked, glancing at me with a small smile.

“Just the usual,” I replied, leaning back against the seat. “Physics and math can really take a toll.”

He chuckled knowingly. “You’ll get through it. Just take it one day at a time.”

The drive home was peaceful, and I felt a sense of comfort being back with my family. As soon as we got home, I changed into my comfy pajamas and headed straight to my room. I pulled out my sketchbook, deciding to unwind with some drawing. The pencil glided across the paper, and with each stroke, I felt my stress fading away.