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‘Huh?’

I smile. ‘The laugh. You didn’t think that ridiculous display was all for Lottie, did you?’

‘Wow, am I really that bad?’

I look at her, really look. She’s watching Lottie, ponytail over one shoulder, sunglasses in her hair, cheeks flushed pink… From a distance, all anyone would see is an attentive mother sitting in the shade of a tree while her daughter burns off steam. But up close, I see the way her eyes pinch with her thoughts, their depths too quick to dampen.

With a glorious day like this for a backdrop, the difference between Sadie now and Sadie pre-Danny is impossible to ignore. The T-shirt she’s wearing doesn’t help either. Because the fun isn’t out; it’s not even close.

How could someone as warm, as happy, as loving as her, ever end up trapped in a life with someone so cruel, so twisted…?

‘It’s not a question of being bad, it’s more…’You’ve changed. You’re not the same light-hearted girl. You’re not… happy.I don’t know how to say any of that without making her feel worse. Or dragging the past straight into the present.

But then, maybe distraction isn’t the answer.

Maybe facing it head-on and talking about it is.

It’s how she helped me once.

‘It’s more…?’ she presses.

‘It’s him, isn’t it?’ I say, quietly putting the blame where it belongs. ‘Your ex?’

She looks at me then, those eyes rimmed with that crushing sadness, the kind that doesn’t scream – it hums. Constant and low. Like white noise she’s lived with for far too long.

‘Yes.’

* * *

Sadie

I draw my knees to my chest as a sudden chill washes over me. One I can’t explain. Or I can, I’ve just never said it out loud before. Not outside of a police station, where the person didn’t know me from Adam and needed it to fill in a report.

Not even with Taylor.Especiallynot with Taylor.

She knows bits, but she doesn’t know it all.

Partly because I know she’ll blame herself.

Partly because I know she’ll blame me.

Ask me why I didn’t run. Why I didn’t come back sooner.

The only place I’ve been able to talk about it openly is online – telling my story to strangers through an anonymous blog I now run. At first, it was just an outlet, a way to feel less alone, to try and make sense of what was happening. But it became a lifeline. Not just for me, but for others too.

Now it’s a full site – resources, shared stories, warning signs, chat channels… a quiet, growing community. And I’m proud of what it’s become.

But that’s all behind a screen, protected by anonymity.

Telling Theo, face to face?

That’s different.

‘It’s okay, Sadie. You don’t have to talk about this, not if you don’t want to. But you lent me an ear when I needed it, and I can do the same for you now.’

I meet his gaze. He’s stripped the hat and the shades. It’s just him and those green eyes – open, steady, full of compassion.

And I want to talk.