You were the daughter of the Perlmans and seemed to always be intrigued whenever Oliver was around. You were a quiet thing, an observant one too. You never spoke, only watched.

You would watch as Oliver did things to impress your father, and you would notice when Oliver would stare at you. Staring at your legs as you sunbathed beside the lakeside, at the way how your mouth moves when you eat at breakfast, how you whisper thing to Elio so he could say it for you instead of speaking yourself.

Oliver was in his room, writing in his journal when he noticed you watching him from the door, hiding behind the frame. You didn’t flee when he moved to look at you, just continued watching. “Do you need some help with something?” Oliver asked with a gentle smile.