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It’s irrational, but I can’t stop the heat rising in my chest and the way my thoughts spiral, the way every part of me screams that I should be the one there, holding her, telling her it’s going to be okay, that I’m here. That I always will be. But I can’t. I have no way to reach her. No way to touch her. I’m far away, knowing things and unable to help, and that’s worse than anything. Worse than any punch, worse than any insult, worse than any fight I’ve ever had with anyone in my life.

I glance across the table at Mrs Callahan reading, completely unaware of the vicious and dark thoughts entering my mind. I settle back into my seat, my mind going into overdrive.

Ash: I’ll handle it.

I won’t stay a ghost forever. I know there’s distance between us and rules holding me back, but they won’t matter. Not for long. I can feel it in the tight coil of tension along my spine and the relentless drum of blood in my temples. Something is coming. Something is inevitable. It’s something I’ve been waiting for, planning, and imagining in countless ways.

I’ll be back, and I’ll make sure no one is going to stop me.

40

BRYN

Now

The faint sounds of the espresso machine and murmur of conversation fill the space around me. I sit with my hands wrapped around a warm mug, staring into the steam. Enough is enough. The grief, the past, the weight of everything that used to define me – I can’t carry it anymore. I pull out my laptop and take a deep breath. It’s time to cut ties, time to let my old life go. The first email is to my office manager, who I’ve been dodging for weeks, letting her calls go unanswered. My fingers hesitate over the keyboard.

Dear Leslie,

I hope this message finds you well. I am writing to formally resign from my position at Crescent Media, effective immediately. I understand this is abrupt, and I sincerely apologise for any inconvenience this may cause. Recent circumstances have made it clear that I need to step away from my current responsibilities to focus on personal matters and redefine the path I want to follow.

I am grateful for the opportunities, guidance, and support I have received during my time here. I have learnt a great deal and appreciate the trust placed in me.

Thank you for your understanding. I wish the team continued success moving forward.

Sincerely,

Bryn Carmichael

Minutes later, my phone is ringing, and when I don’t answer, the reply rolls in. It’s laced with anger, confusion, and frustration. I read the words with a lump in my throat, but I don’t back down. Taking a long sip of my coffee, I stare out the window at the darkening streets.

The past, the life I’ve been running from, the expectations, the rules – they don’t matter anymore. I’ve chosen a new path, one where I decide the rules. One where I can finally start living for me. For a long time, I lived in the shadow of others. I was quiet, careful, always bending to whatever people around me expected, but I’m done not having a voice. I’m done not being true to myself. For the first time in a long time, I’m not waiting for someone else to tell me what comes next. I’m choosing it myself.

Next, I dial Mum’s number, trying to steady the nervous flutter in my chest. It rings twice before she picks up.

‘Hello?’ Her voice is warm and comforting, and for the first time since coming here, I feel a small spark of homesickness.

‘Hi, Mum,’ I say, taking a deep breath. ‘How are you?’

‘I’m good, love, how are you?’ she asks, and I can tell from her tone that she’s expecting something from me, as though she’s already aware of the conversation about to unfold.

‘I want to stay here for a while. Would that be okay?’

There’s a pause on the line.

‘I had a feeling this was coming,’ she says finally, her tone a little wistful, a little sad. ‘I won’t lie, Bryn. I wish things were different, but I understand. You need this. I just can’t be back there. Everything reminds me of what we used to have.’

‘I know,’ I murmur. ‘I’ll visit all the time, I promise.’

‘I know, love. You do what you need to do, as long as you don’t forget to check in with me.’

‘I won’t, I promise.’ Relief hits me in waves, but it’s mixed with guilt. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve caused any trouble.’

‘You haven’t,’ she says softly. ‘Just promise me you’ll take care of yourself. Don’t disappear completely, okay? I miss you.’

‘I promise,’ I whisper, feeling the tension in my shoulders start to ease. For the first time in months, I feel like I can breathe a little. She’s sad, yes, but she’s not angry. She knows I need this, and somehow that makes it easier to step into my next chapter. We continue talking for a long time, catching up on things, chatting in that easy way we always have. When I hang up, I feel a little lighter.

The bell above the cafe door jingles softly, pulling me from my thoughts. Ash. He slides into the seat across from me, the scrape of the chair against the floor enough to make a few heads swivel our way.