Late evening. Emily was in her mother’s apartment, curled up on the living room sofa with a blanket wrapped around her legs. The lights were dim, the air heavy with the quiet hum of a forgotten television channel and the scent of chamomile tea her mother made before heading to bed. The past few days had been a blur of sleepless nights, media noise, and the slow crushing ache of betrayal.
Emily's fingers hover over her phone, her thumb was brushing the screen as she opened and closed Oliver's contact window. Her name was still saved under the affectionate nickname he gave her: "Starfish" – from a summer trip years ago when they were best friends, and she had pulled a starfish out of the water, squealing with childish delight.
She closed her eyes, letting the memory wash over her.
FLASHBA
