THE CALM BEFORE EIGHTEEN
Elliana woke up to the smell of pancakes and the soft hum of the radio drifting from the kitchen.
For a moment, she forgot what day it was. Then reality settled in gently—warm and heavy at the same time.
She was eighteen.
Sunlight filtered through the curtains, painting slow patterns on her bedroom wall.
Eighteen felt strange. Too big. Like a door she wasn't sure she was ready to open.
She stretched, exhaling quietly, before slipping out of bed and padding down the hallway.
The kitchen felt alive in a way it rarely did.
Her father stood by the stove, sleeves rolled up, tie absent for once.
The Chief of Police didn't wear his badge this morning. He wore a tired smile instead—one that didn't quite reach his eyes but tried anyway.
Grief had shaped him since Mom died, carving lines of responsibility deeper into his face. Still, this morning, he looked like just Dad.
At the table sat Lily, Elliana's younger sister, swinging her legs impatiently as she stabbed at a strawberry with her fork.
"She's finally awake!" Lily announced dramatically.
"I told you she'd sleep through her own birthday."
Elliana smiled despite herself. "I heard that."
Her dad turned, spatula in hand.
"Happy birthday, Ellie."
The words landed softly but stayed.
Eighteen years.
He crossed the room and kissed her forehead, lingering for half a second longer than usual, as if memorizing her at this age.
"Eighteen," he repeated quietly.
"Feels like yesterday you were learning how to ride a bike."
Elliana swallowed. "Feels like yesterday Mom was yelling at me to wear a helmet."
The room went quiet—but not broken.
Her father set the spatula down and cleared his throat.
"She'd be proud of you," he said, voice steady but careful.
"Both of you."
Lily nodded, suddenly serious.
"Mom would've baked a giant cake."
"And burned it," Elliana added.
That earned a soft laugh from her dad—the kind that felt rare and precious.
Breakfast was simple. Pancakes stacked too high, syrup everywhere, Lily talking nonstop about school while Elliana listened, trying to hold onto the calm.
This moment felt fragile, like glass—beautiful and breakable.
Her phone buzzed on the counter.
A message from Samantha:
Beach tonight. You can't say no. Eighteen only happens once.
Elliana glanced at her dad. He was watching her, the way he always did—protective, cautious, aware of a world full of dangers he fought every day.
"You have plans?" he asked.
"Just… friends," she said carefully.
He nodded, though his eyes lingered.
"Be home early."
She smiled. "I will."
But even as she said it, something shifted inside her—an unexplainable pull toward the unknown, toward the life waiting beyond rules and curfews.
Elliana didn't know yet that by the end of the day, sirens would replace laughter, and choices would blur into consequences.
All she knew was that she was eighteen.
And this was only the beginning.