EVIE’S POV
Tuesday evening passes quietly.
Exactly how I need it to.
After speaking to Bailey, I spend another hour working on my manuscript, tweaking dialogue and tightening a few scenes. The more I read it, the more I realise Alexander had been right.
The bones of the story are good.
It just needs refining.
The thought still feels strange.
For so long, I’d stopped believing in my own ability.
Now, every time Alexander praises something I’ve written, a tiny part of me starts believing again.
It’s terrifying.
And wonderful.
By seven, my stomach reminds me that I am, in fact, human and require sustenance to survive.
Apparently forgetting lunch once had not taught me anything.
I make myself dinner, something quick and easy, before settling back at my laptop for another couple of
