Page 24

The idea that my late start might actually be an advantage rather than a deficit was revolutionary. "But what if I choose wrong? What if I waste time on things I'm not good at?"

"Then you'll learn something about yourself and try something else," Nicolaus replied with a slight shrug. "Failure is information, not judgment. The only real waste would be not choosing at all."

I found myself nodding, his logical approach to uncertainty oddly comforting. "Is that how you approached swimming? Just... tried it and kept going?"

"Actually, no." A rare smile crossed his face, softening his usual analytical expression. "I was terrified of water as a child. My parents had to drag me screaming to my first swimming lesson."

"Really?" I couldn't hide my surprise. The image of composed, controlled Nicolaus being afraid of anything seemed impossible.

"Really. I clung to the edge of the pool for weeks, convinced I would drown if I let go." He took a sip of his coffee, his eyes distant with memory. "Then one day, my instructor—this gruff old man with hands like sandpaper—told me something I never forgot."

"What was that?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"He said, 'Fear isn't the problem. Everyone's afraid of something.

The question is whether you let fear make your decisions for you.

'" Nicolaus set his mug down, his expression thoughtful.

"The next day, I let go of the wall for the first time.

I didn't suddenly become fearless—I was still terrified—but I made the decision, instead of letting the fear make it for me. "

I considered his words, finding unexpected wisdom in them. "And now you're trying for the Olympics."

"And now I'm trying for the Olympics," he agreed with that small smile again. "Though I still have moments of irrational fear sometimes. The difference is, I recognize it for what it is—just fear, not reality."

The quiet confession touched something deep inside me. Somehow, knowing that this self-assured man had once struggled with fear made my own uncertainties feel less shameful.

"I'm afraid all the time," I admitted softly. "Of making mistakes. Of disappointing people. Of not being enough."

"That's understandable," Nicolaus said, his voice gentle despite its precision. "You were raised in an environment where mistakes were punished rather than treated as learning opportunities. But fear can be a compass too—pointing toward the things that matter most to you."

I considered this as I finished my coffee, the bitter-sweet taste no longer quite so strange on my tongue. "I was afraid to come downstairs in these," I gestured to my star-patterned pajamas.

"But you did it anyway," Nicolaus observed, his blue eyes warm with approval. "That's courage, Lilianna. Acting despite the fear, not in the absence of it."

I glanced down at my pajamas, feeling a small surge of pride at his words. Such a tiny rebellion, yet it had felt monumental to me. "They're the first piece of clothing I ever chose entirely for myself," I admitted. "I bought them online and hid them from my mother."

"What drew you to them?" Nicolaus asked, genuine curiosity in his voice.

I traced the pattern of silver moons with my finger, remembering the moment I'd first seen them on the website.

"The stars, I suppose. They reminded me of wanting to see the real sky, not just the sanitized version from my parents' estate.

" I paused, feeling vulnerable but oddly compelled to continue.

"They represented something I couldn't have—freedom to be childish, to find wonder in simple things. "

Nicolaus nodded slowly, his analytical gaze softening.

"And now you're wearing them in a kitchen at dawn, drinking coffee with someone who understands the value of small rebellions.

" He glanced at his watch, a sleek device that probably tracked more metrics than I could imagine.

"I should head to the pool soon, but I'm glad you came down.

These quiet moments... they're often when we discover the most about ourselves. "

I felt a flutter of disappointment at the thought of him leaving, surprised by how much I'd enjoyed this unexpected conversation. "Will you be back before Christopher starts the baking lesson?"

"Definitely. I wouldn't miss witnessing your first encounter with his teaching methods." His expression held a hint of mischief. "Besides, someone needs to document the flour explosion for posterity.”

I laughed, the sound still surprising me with its naturalness. "You make it sound like a scientific experiment."

"With Christopher, baking often is," Nicolaus replied, rinsing his mug in the sink with methodical precision. "He approaches recipes like equations that must be perfectly balanced. Very different from Miles, who gardens by intuition and luck."

"What about Julian?" I asked, curious about the pack dynamics I was slowly beginning to understand.

"Julian plans everything three moves ahead, like chess.

He'll have contingency plans for your baking lesson that Christopher hasn't even considered.

" Nicolaus dried his hands on a kitchen towel, his movements economical and purposeful.

"It's actually fascinating to watch how differently we all approach problem-solving. "

The easy way he included me in that "we" made my chest warm. As if I already belonged here, already part of their complex dynamic rather than an outsider looking in.

"I should let you get to your training," I said, though part of me wanted to keep talking. There was something soothing about Nicolaus's direct approach to conversation—no hidden meanings or social minefields to navigate.

"Actually," he paused, studying me with that analytical gaze, "would you like to come with me?

Not to swim," he added quickly, seeing my expression.

"Just to see the facility. You could bring a book, sit in the observation area.

Sometimes a change of environment helps when processing new experiences. "

The invitation surprised me. "Wouldn't I be in your way?"

"Not at all. I train alone most mornings anyway." He tilted his head slightly. "Besides, you might find it interesting. The pool has floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the river. Good natural light for reading."

I considered the offer. The idea was tempting, “If the offer is open on a different day…” I am still getting used to everything and I don’t feel comfortable leaving the house yet.

He shook his head, “The offer is an open invitation. Whenever you feel up to it, tell me.”

"Thank you for understanding," I said, warmth blooming in my chest at his easy acceptance of my boundary. No pressure, no disappointment—just simple acknowledgment of my comfort level.

"Of course." He glanced at the clock. "I should get going. Enjoy your quiet morning—the others won't be up for at least another hour."

"Will you tell me about your training sometime?" I asked, surprising myself with my interest. "What's it like, preparing for something like the Olympics?"

A small smile touched his lips. "I'd like that." He gathered his swim bag and paused at the doorway. "There's more coffee in the pot if you want it. And the back porch gets excellent morning light if you're looking for a peaceful place to sit."

After he left, I found myself drawn to the back door, coffee mug in hand. The porch was small but inviting, and I moved and sat down. I would enjoy just watching the sun come up before going and getting ready for the day. For now…I would enjoy the quiet of the morning.