The next morning, we met before sunrise. No one said much. The drive out of London felt different from every journey before it. At the beginning of this nightmare, I had traveled because my life was falling apart. Now I was traveling because I had chosen to confront it. As the city disappeared in the rear-view mirror, I rested a hand over my stomach. This child was no longer just something I was protecting. It was the reason I kept moving.
The countryside gradually replaced the city—rolling fields, stone cottages, empty roads. The coastal village felt untouched by time. Almost forgotten. The elderly woman, Vivian, became quieter the closer we got. Rose noticed and gently asked, “When were you last here?”
“The day we promised never to return.”
No one spoke after that.
The village was sm
