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Turn Right: Chapter Thirty-Five

“Hi. My name is Rose.”

Soph laughed.

“Right, of course.” Soph grinned. “Hi. I’m Sophia – but you can call me Soph.”

. . .

Three Months Later

Sophia Malik started off her morning the same way she had for the past few months.

What Sophia Malik did not know, however, was that no matter how much she stayed faithful to the routine she now so desperately relied on, that day? Things were going to change.

When she woke up and stumbled into the kitchen for some water, she woke up Zayn and Dianna, sprawled out across the bed in the master bedroom, the door wide open. Soph knew that later, she and Zayn would argue; Soph that he was rubbing his indiscretions in her face, Zayn that Dianna was “just a friend” – and if Soph hadn’t been so out of sorts for the past few months, he wouldn’t need constant companionship.

When she slammed whatever doors she could as loudly as possible, she – as usual – felt a slight twinge of satisfaction at Zayn and Dianna’s consequent curses. The twinge, however, lessened more with each day.

“Go on, Soph.” Zayn called drunkenly from the sofa, as she took her usual pill before heading for the door. Ever since the events that had occurred a few months ago, Soph had never missed a contraceptive pill again. “Aren’t you going to shout? Yell?” Dianna giggled as he offered Soph the half-empty tequila bottle, one so similar to the other bottles that accompanied his every meal without fail. “Every day I ask, Soph – show me the real you! Let’s shout!” He leaned forward, almost toppling over as he did. “What do you think, huh babe? Fix our marriage today?”

Soph simply stared at him.

“As usual, my bathroom is off-limits to your puke.” She finally said, before heading out the door.

Every morning she said that. Every evening, she would be greeted with the unwelcome stench emanating from the guest bedroom. She would have considered locks, if she hadn’t stopped caring. The smell, of acidic and putrid bacon sandwiches, was a distraction at least.

As per tradition, Soph ate breakfast outside of the flat. She couldn’t trust any of the dishes at home, or food: Dianna and Zayn were constantly attempting to convince her that once she “experienced the magic”, she’d understand their habits, and often came up with inventive ways to seduce her with their glass bottles and plastic bags. Zayn no longer adhered to the few rules he’d followed when they’d married; rules of their religion, their culture, rules Soph didn’t know how to live without.

Usually, Soph would buy her medium mocha latte (not too hot, extra chocolate and with two brown sugars) and a breakfast pastry of her fancy and contemplate on her husband’s lifestyle. Perhaps not as strangely as she thought, it did not tempt her to something similar, a weakness, something to aid her “pain”; on the contrary, the mere thought of anything as such repulsed her. As it stood, she wasn’t in pain anyway – that was half of the problem, one Zayn had turned to drink to deal with. She didn’t feel pain anymore. She didn’t feel anything. Not like she hadn’t... Away from home, or even before marriage. This wasn’t numbness. She felt nothing, because she was empty.

However, today her schedule had changed ever-so-slightly. She was meeting a friend for breakfast and then would have her usual lunch with another, before wandering aimlessly around the city of London, looking for something to see. She would then walk her brother Adam from school to the Tube station, saying she’d made the time. They both knew she hadn’t; Soph had time in abundance. But neither one of them mentioned it and they were both grateful for it, even if Adam would spend the commute home worrying about his big sister’s happiness – and the role he’d perhaps had in destroying it, if he had not been so easily sucked in by the mess that was now her husband.

Whilst Adam shared his fears with his father in quiet, subtle ways, Soph would do her job – being the perfect pop star’s wife. Sometimes it was dinners set up as photo opportunities with “friends”, or a fashion show – if she was lucky, a premiere of sorts, where she would be joined by the other members of One Direction on the red carpet and just-barely-sober Zayn. She liked the premieres the most, simply because it meant less talking. Afterwards, she would feel the pitiful stares of her friends within the group and go home, often holing up in the guest bedroom with some fruit and her laptop as Zayn and Dianna partied on the other side of the wall; sometimes with other friends, too.

Soph didn’t eat much these days – she simply didn’t have the appetite. But she would always have breakfast so that her pill would work to its best ability. Not that it mattered – Soph had refused to be touched by Zayn ever since their return. However, she did not want to take any risks; after all, if Dianna had to leave early or was busy with work commitments, Zayn turned to Soph for entertainment and Zayn Malik was not a friendly drunk. The cost of her abstinence was the occasional bruise here and there, but all the same – Soph did not want to risk being overpowered one day and falling pregnant.

She had learnt from her mistakes.

Today was breakfast with the model and actor Eddie Cartwright, at Harrods’ famous Terrace Bar. The service was excellent, the food was lovely and Eddie and Soph’s privacy was entirely respected; until they stepped outside of the confines of Harrods’ walls, at least.

Soph took the Tube instead of the car. She often did. Zayn and Dianna, when venturing outside of the house to God-knew-where for a good time, had a habit of hijacking her car. She supposed it was one of Zayn’s many attempts to rile her. You see, Zayn was under the impression that, should Soph become angry enough, a torrent of abuse would be let out – one she had, apparently, “clogged up” and “stuck up her backside” (in more colourful terms) – that once released, would return Soph to her usual self. This “usual” self Zayn referred to was what Soph assumed to be the person she’d been before pregnancy, or touring, or even after two weeks of being married.

Instead, Soph took to the London Underground.

She found it rather soothing, actually. She could easily blend into the crowd and those who recognized her could take as many pictures as they liked, so long as they could manage their way through the mess of limbs that was the train system in the mornings.

“You look as lovely as ever.” Eddie smiled pleasantly upon seeing her. Soph simply rolled her eyes as he stood and hugged her, waiting for her to be seated before sitting back down himself. “Why do you always roll your eyes when I pay you a compliment?”

“Because I know I look terrible this morning, as I do most days.” Soph told him pleasantly back, shrugging off her leather jacket – hers, not anybody else’s. She was wearing skinny black jeans, black biker boots, a blue T-shirt with a black symbol and her jacket. Her hair was pulled back into a bun and she wore no make-up, utilizing the spring sunshine to hide behind her favourite pair of Ray Bans.

Eddie, on the other hand, looked ever the gentleman, in a sweater and jeans.

They ordered; one full English breakfast with black coffee for Eddie, one continental breakfast with a Harrods Sunrise smoothie for Soph.

“So,” Soph said, waggling her eyebrows as she leant forward. “What was so important you absolutely had to tell me in person? If I hear it’s another movie where you’re off in a jungle somewhere again, I do warn you – your news will not be well-received.”

“No.” Eddie laughed. “No, actually, I think I’ll be taking a break from acting soon anyway. And modelling, as it happens.”

“Oh?” Soph prompted, smiling as the waiter handed her a glass of bright, thick liquid. “Thank you.”

The waiter nodded as he left Eddie’s coffee on the table, before walking away.

Eddie took a sip of his coffee, hissing slightly at the heat. Soph waited patiently for his answer. After all, she had all day – quite literally. She wasn’t booked for lunch until one and her evening was one surprisingly free. Apparently, the boys had recording to do or... Something.

“We received the final results from the hospital late last night.” Eddie frowned slightly. “Obviously I mean we as in me and my family, not the pompous we-”

“That your accent suggests?” Soph finished, smiling. “I gathered. And?”

Eddie cleared his throat and smiled; and in doing so, managed to act the miracle of lessening some of the weight from Soph’s shoulders.

“Soph, I have what they refer to as stage two lung cancer.” Eddie told her proudly, Soph’s smile slowly disappearing, instead being replaced with an expression of horror. “As it turns out, all those warnings you gave me about smoking like a chimney should have been heeded. Who knew?” Eddie peered at Soph over the table as she continued to stare down at her place setting, lost for words. “It’s good to know you’re taking this well. Not caring is a blessing, I should try it some time.”

“My problem is that I care too much.” Soph said hoarsely, going quiet as the waiter returned with their plates. She waited for him to leave before continuing, Eddie unperturbed as he tucked into his breakfast and nodded for Soph to do the same. “Eddie... Well – well, what can they do? Stage two, what does that mean?”

“It means,” Eddie told her, swallowing a mouthful of eggs. Soph felt... Cold all over and it wasn’t just from her drink. Eddie looked... So... So healthy and happy, it wasn’t possible that he was ill. “That the cancer has spread to my lymph nodes and, because they ironically deem me healthy enough, they expect to be performing a lobectomy on me within the next few weeks.” Eddie, noticing Soph’s untouched plate, frowned at her. “Come on, eat up.”

Soph shook her head, attempting to recollect her thoughts. Lobectomy. It didn’t sound pleasant.

“Well... When are you going in?” Soph finally managed to ask, rolling her eyes and popping a raspberry into her mouth as Eddie glared pointedly at her. “What date did you choose?”

Eddie grumbled.

“I wasn’t given a date to choose, apparently surgery isn’t optional.” He muttered. “Next week. After that, chemotherapy is meant to follow.”

Soph took a deep breath and nodded to herself.

“Okay. Okay.” She murmured. “Right. Yeah, okay. Surgery and then chemo. So it’s all sorted. You’re going to be fine.”

“Hmm, not quite.” Eddie hummed, placing down his knife and fork. “Either you start eating or I stop talking, which is it to be?”

Soph dutifully took a bite of her Danish pastry.

“You see, I don’t plan on having chemotherapy.”

Soph began to choke.

“Are you out of your mind?” She spluttered, ignoring the curious looks from other breakfast eaters. “What do you mean, you’re not having chemo? It’s a part of your recovery!”

Eddie’s chewing slowed. He’d known this would be the difficult part.

Setting down his cutlery and wiping the sides of his mouth with his napkin, Eddie surveyed Soph seriously.

“Who said I wanted to recover?” He asked quietly, Soph instantly covering her mouth in horror at his words. “I’m just in everybody’s way, Soph. Harry, Rose-”

“Don’t you dare.” Soph struggled to say, her voice beginning to break. She angrily wiped her tears from her face, staring out of the window in a bid to remain calm. “Don’t – don’t you dare decide to be some self-sacrificing hero. That’s not you.”

“Why can’t it be?” Eddie snorted, pretending to be offended.

“Because you survive, you’re like me, you keep going, you don’t-” Soph stopped, fighting her face from crumpling. “No. No, I won’t let you.”

“Soph, Soph listen to me.” Eddie murmured, placing his hand over hers. Soph brushed it away at first – but a moment later, she was squeezing it tightly as she faced the window, struggling not to cry and make a scene. “It’s a good thing, really. Things like this never go away, not when you’re as young as I am. I don’t want to live my life in fear. And I’ll leave a legend!” Eddie laughed, though it sounded forced. It was. “Did you know I’ve been nominated for an Oscar? Nothing sways the jury like a little death, I’m sure.”

Soph pressed her lips together tightly, trying not to break. Cancer. Eddie... Had cancer. Eddie had cancer and he didn’t want to do anything to stop it.

It was so... Selfish!

“I won’t let you.” She repeated, barely whispering. Eddie stared down at the table with furrowed eyebrows, entirely able to hear her despite the din of the restaurant. “You can’t, no, I won’t let you.”

“I hardly talk to my family. My brother is at an age where he will soon realize I’m not the best of big brother’s out there and even if he is hopelessly naive, I’ll most likely ruin him.” Soph shook her head at Eddie’s accusation, but he continued. “I want Rose and Harry to be happy, Rose. God knows they would be if I hadn’t interfered.” Eddie took a deep breath, steeling himself for the next few minutes. They were not going to be pleasant. “And honestly Soph... There’s nothing you can do. The plan has been made. I’ll have my surgery, but it’s entirely likely I’ll begin deteriorating once I recover, if I do at all. I’m going to go away, somewhere obscure, once it starts showing – live out my days in peace, so as to make sure nobody remembers me... Ugly.” Eddie frowned at the word. “Hmm. Seems fitting, doesn’t it, that term? Ugly.” Eddie nodded slowly to himself. “I have a year, if not less, of the way I am now. At best.”

Soph said nothing, tears silently streaming down her face.

“There’s... One other thing.” Eddie began hesitantly. Soph glanced at him, still hiding her face at an angle from the other people in the room. “You can’t tell Rose or Harry. Or anyone, preferably.”

Soph let out a small gasp.

“Are you out of your mind?” She hissed quietly, her face now completely distraught. “You’re – you’re doing this – this stupid thing and they’re going to unwittingly let you and I’m – I’m meant to say nothing?”

“Consider it a dying man’s wish if it suits you, but I’ve already taken it for granted that my secret is safe with you.” Eddie said sharply. Soph’s face crumpled and once again, she turned to face the window, squeezing Eddie’s hand tighter. “Please, Soph. It would only hurt them more.”

“How – how do you even know the surgery won’t work? That you won’t need aftercare?” Soph asked thickly. “You’ll most likely have the world’s best surgeons performing on you, or at least best in the country. Who’s to say you won’t-”

“The same way you always knew your baby would miscarry.” Eddie replied quietly. “Or am I wrong?”

Soph closed her eyes tightly. No. No, he wasn’t wrong, and they both knew it. Soph had just... Known. Undoubtedly, the same way Eddie knew he wasn’t going to recover from his illness.

“I thought we could pop to Laduree after breakfast, so you could take some macaroons to your lunch with Rose.” Eddie coughed. “Though I think it’s safe to assume by your expression that you won’t be lunching with Rose today, unless you plan on telling her the news.” Eddie’s voice dropped slightly. “And I don’t think you can make it through the rest of your breakfast either.”

“I can’t, I’m sorry, I just can’t.” Soph said suddenly, hastily wiping her face and gathering her things. “I’m sorry I’m being so selfish, I am, Eddie-”

“It’s okay.” Eddie smiled, as she rushed on her jacket, still trying inconspicuously to wipe her face. She pulled her hair free of her bun, hiding behind a curtain of dark hair. “I understand, you need... Time to process.”

Soph hesitated, just before she had planned to rise.

“I don’t want you to leave me.” She said, staring out at the window. Soph pressed her lips so tightly together, they turned white.

“I don’t want to leave you, either.” Eddie replied softly, his eyes shimmering slightly.

Soph’s face crumpled.

“Then please,” She begged, almost choking on her own tears. “Please, Eddie, don’t.”

Eddie forced another one of his trademark smiles. It hit Soph, in that moment, that now those smiles were numbered.

“If only it were that simple.” He settled on saying.

“It’s not fair.” Soph whispered, hating herself for how openly she cried. Mourned. She was mourning, already.

Eddie took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, turning to the window, his hand and Soph’s still entwined.

“Oh, I know.” Eddie said, his voice sounding oddly hoarse. “I know it’s not. But I’ve heard that’s life.” Eddie’s jaw clenched as he attempted to remain cool, in control. In the small time they had together as friends, Soph needed him to remain strong. She couldn’t know how weak of a resolve he really had. “Crappy thing, isn’t it?”

Soph nodded, sniffling and fighting the tears that simply refused to stop.

“I have to go.” She finally said, abruptly standing, pulling her hand from Eddie’s – and hugging him tightly where he sat. Kissing his forehead, she told him – “Don’t be a stranger. Call?”

Eddie hugged her tightly back.

“Me? A stranger?” He laughed hoarsely. “Never.”

Soph left quickly after, her head ducked down as she did.

She cancelled her lunch plans with Rose. Her excuse was that Zayn wasn’t feeling himself and wanted her where he could see her. Soph hung up before Rose could question her pitiful excuse. Soph couldn’t tell her the truth – it was Soph’s job to be there unconditionally for Rose right now and damning to worrying about Soph’s life placed on certain conditions to their friendship, whether Soph meant them to or not.

Soph forced herself to keep it together, managing to do so up until she turned into her road. It was empty and at knowing there were no eyes on her, Soph stopped and stood in the middle of the road, both hands covering her mouth as she began to cry loudly.

Forcing herself to walk over to her and Zayn’s building, she pressed her back against the brick wall and slid down, crouching in the corner by the alleyway and sobbing to her heart’s content. Eddie was ill. He was ill, dying and there was nothing at all she could do to help him – she was so useless, hollow that she couldn’t even persuade him to try and save his own life.

The only real friend she had left, the only person who had... Understood... Who she could afford to be truly honest with and he was leaving.

He was leaving her, too.

Soph huddled there for minutes, though they felt like hours; crouching on the pavement with her head pressed against her knees, sobbing.

And then she felt somebody yank her up and into the alley.

“Hitch up your T-shirt.”

Soph scrubbed away her tears, unable to find the strength to fight... Whoever it was, leading her into the bottom of the alley. When they stopped and freed her wrist, however, Soph did not look and run – instead, she looked, blinked and then began to stare.

Standing before her with stubble, a long-sleeved black T-shirt and a pair of jeans and sneakers, Aman Zafar stood before her.

“Wh- what-” Soph began – except Aman shook his head, as if he refused to hear her speak.

“Hitch it up.” He commanded, his eyes dark and angry. “Now.”

Shaking her head slightly – more than once she’d felt this happen, more than once she’d seen him, sometimes even made him appear, to help her through the day -, Soph tried to shake off her imagination. But... No. It was too... Vivid.

Then Aman leant forward and snatched up her T-shirt, exposing the left side of her body, from just underneath her bra to the waistband of her jeans – and the ugly, angry purple bruise she was sporting.

Soph opened her mouth, but there were no words.

“Did he do this to you?” Aman demanded, letting her T-shirt fall back into place. Soph could only stare numbly. He... Was she imagining this? Because that was the only explanation, but why would she imagine... This? “Has it happened more than once?” Aman swore loudly. “Soph, how many bruises like that do you have?!”

Soph pinched her palm, forcing herself to speak.

“N-not many-” She stuttered, wincing as Aman pulled the other side of her T-shirt roughly – before spinning her by the shoulder and checking there, as well. He swore louder this time, punching the wall opposite her simultaneously. It didn’t make an altogether pleasant sound. “I-I don’t understand-”

“What the Hell happened?” Aman demanded, his voice loud and angry now. Soph blinked. Suddenly, she simply... Knew. This was real. This was happening, this was real. “Well? In three months, are you telling me you have just sat back and taken all of this...” Aman struggled to find the right word. “... Abuse?” Soph blanched at that word. Abuse. She didn’t like it.

She just considered Zayn to have an... Unhealthy lifestyle.

Her mind was reeling.

“It only happens sometimes-” Soph began to say, only for Aman to physically bite his tongue to halt his incredibly rude retort. “But, wait, I don’t understand, you’re here-”

“I find out your husband is kicking you around and you think I wouldn’t be?” Aman demanded, staring at Soph with such incredulity, she felt stupid for even asking such a question.

Yet “but you’re here” was the only response she could manage.

“Yes, I’m here and I’m making sure you get the Hell away from here.” Aman fumed. “Go upstairs, get your stuff. We’re leaving.”

She frowned.

“But Zayn, he-”

“Soph.” Aman said, it apparently requiring some effort. “I am trying very hard to not have a little word with Zayn myself, so either you can go upstairs, quietly pack a bag and meet me out here, or I can go up there, bash his head into a wall a few times and you can stumble around his rotting carcass as you pack.” Soph suddenly let out the breath she was holding – this was real, this was real, because only Aman could say something so unhinged when he was angry. “Which will it be?”

“It’s... You.” Soph finally managed to say, shaking her head in wonder – before flinging her arms around Aman’s neck and holding him to her as tightly as she could.

“Well, who else would it be?” Aman snapped; but his arms wound around Soph’s waist, gripping her to him so tightly, Soph knew he’d missed her too. And that brought her such relief – because she wasn’t going mad. She hadn’t imagined things from months ago that had never existed, he was here.

“But – but what happened?” Soph asked, staring up at him. “I – I looked out for news, but there was nothing, nothing at all, and your father would have told Bee about your real mum and-”

“Everything was fine.” Aman told her, confused by her worry. “Nothing happened.”

“It can’t be fine, Bee knows!” Soph continued, looking horrified. “What happened? With your father, with your uncle-”

“Soph.” Aman told her seriously. “Everything was fine.”

. . .

Three Months Earlier

“Once that piece of paper has been read, I’m not important anymore.” Aman told Jai quietly, watching the sky thoughtfully. It didn’t bother him. It felt... Cathartic, somehow, to finally be told the truth. His grandfather had always told him Aman belonged in the Zafar family, but Aman had never felt at home. His home had been with his mother, watching her nurse women’s bruises after a hard night and teaching him to play chess as a distraction when he heard strange noises in the night. “I’ll go home, to the gutter – where I belong.”

There was no pitying in Aman’s voice. The company he owned may have had his name as the boss and Aman may have had the responsibility of it, but it ultimately belonged to the parent company of Zafar Incorporated, which had been in Dadaji’s name. Aman would have enough money to tide himself over for more than a little while if he could remember how to be sensible. Slowly but surely, his investment accounts would become tied up in legalities. He could take out some spare cash before then and from there, decide how he’d make his way.

He hoped they gave Debbie a bonus.

“Aman.” Jai muttered, nudging his best friend.

Aman glanced up, to see his entire family staring at him with wide eyes.

“Yeah?” He asked stupidly.

“Him?” Yasir fumed. “This – this boy who wasn’t even paying attention? I’m the eldest! This is wrong!”

“We’re going to have to work on your concentration skills.” Abrar murmured, sitting beside Aman. “Here, read this.”

Aman took the stack of papers with confusion, feeling Bee beaming at him. Jai didn’t even bother hiding his curiosity; he eagerly read the papers over Aman’s shoulder, laughing loudly as he did.

Staring down with furrowed eyebrows and incredibly low expectations, Aman felt his eyes widen as his eyes scanned further and further down the page.

“But-” Aman began, seeing his uncle try and hide his smile. “But this says-”

“It says you have a fifty-one percent stake in the company, including all assets.” Aman’s uncle smiled. “Under my tutelage, of course and your sister and father get some other things, too.”

Aman shook his head. There were piles and piles of deeds in his lap, waiting for his signature.

Aman froze as he saw one deed in particular.

The house. This house, the one he’d grown up in with his grandfather.

It was his.

Aman couldn’t say anything for a few minutes, rifling crazily through the papers instead. It was his. All of it. Bee had a thirty percent stake in the company, with her own assets; their father left with the minimal amount, though more material goods. Some classic cars, a few holiday homes... Things he’d always considered his, anyway. Aman’s uncle seemingly didn’t benefit from the will at all, being named trustee – making Abrar the de facto head of house.

“You don’t have to take it if you don’t want to.” Abrar told him seriously. Jai snorted, but Aman understood the choice – this meant never being able to leave. This meant accepting this family as his family, his truth – leaving his connection to his mother behind him. To the brothel, to growing up running around barefoot in the street, all of it. “Of course, I’d highly recommend it.” Abrar smirked, seeing the incensed expression on his brother’s face.

“Fine.” Yasir seethed. “But at least we have Bee. She’ll look after us – she’s ourdaughter after all.”

Bee swung her head around to face her father.

“Oh, she will?” She asked with incredulity. Tiff tried to hide his smirk. Bee had been stressed for weeks, wondering why she was never trusted, why she felt as if she were always missing something... And now she’d found out the truth? She was about to blow. “Since when have I been your daughter?”

Aman froze for the second time, his eyes widening. Oh no.

“Busra, how dare you-” Her mother scolded, but Bee snorted extremely loudly.

“Ha!” She yelled. “Your daughter? Tell me – was I your daughter when I was a little girl, all alone because your friends are all crazy, when you were trying to get me betrothed to every rich toddler in the city?!”

“That was for your own good-” Yasir blinked, but Bee shrieked again.

“Ha! Was I your daughter when I missed my big brother? When I asked why I only saw him when we came to visit grandfather and you said it was because boys had to learn different things?” Bee let out a strangled scream. “Was I your daughter when I got married and instead of congratulating me or even being insulted that I didn’t tell you, you just told me my husband wasn’t laying a hand on your money, no matter how many times over he married me?” Aman and Jai glanced at one another at this new revelation, Tiff looking grim. “What about when you tried to buy me as a child? Was I your daughter when you’d spoil me rotten and then leave me to him-” Bee pointed accusingly at Aman, making him blanch. “- to discipline me, to teach me what was right and wrong, to bring me up? Was I your daughter then? Or is it just a recent development because your money isn’t yours anymore?”

“Busra Zafar, I am your father.” Yasir told her firmly, his voice shaking with indignation. “I have loved you-”

Silently, Bee motioned with her hand for him to zip it.

The shocking thing was that, being so stunned at the action, Yasir did.

“You.” Bee said, striding over to her big brother.

“Oh shit.” Jai muttered under his breath, moving slightly away from Aman. He didn’t want to be in the line of fire.

“Me?” Aman repeated dubiously.

“What did you think? That because we didn’t have the same mother, I’d pack up and think oh, we’re not siblings anymore?” Bee demanded, shoving her brother hard. Aman stared up at her wide eyes, unable to find coherency. “Hmm? All those times you sat outside my door with cheesecake waiting for me to come out, when I was sad? Not letting any nannies near me when I’d fall over and looking after me yourself? Well?” Bee shoved him again, big, wet tears beginning to splash down her face. “What did you think? That I’d stop calling you my big brother? Did you really think I was that fickle, you, out of everyone?”

Aman finally managed a cough, surrendering his hands in front of him.

“I get you’re upset-”

“Upset? I’m livid!” Bee shouted, beginning to pound her little fists against Aman’s chest and shoulders with each word. “I – am- your- little- sister! Do you understand that? How dare you think that I’d just-”

Aman pulled her into a large hug, just as she began to sob loudly.

“I-I’m sorry.” Aman finally managed to say. “I didn’t – I didn’t think, Bee, I’m sorry.”

“And you!” Bee screamed accusingly, one arm still wrapped around her brother as she slapped Jai on the back of the head. “What’s your excuse? I know you knew! Why the Hell didn’t you tell me?”

“Abuse him, it’s his fault!” Jai shouted, rubbing his head. “And... It wasn’t my secret to tell.”

“Busra-” Her father began, but when Bee turned to face him with such a steely resolve, he couldn’t help but stare.

“This house, it’s mine too.” Bee sniffled. “I want you out.” She glanced at her mother. “Both of you. You have enough holiday homes to move away somewhere. Just go.”

“If you choose him, we will disown you.” Her mother said quietly, her voice shaking.

Bee stepped away from Aman and placed her hands on her hips.

“So?” She asked quietly. “How is that different to the rest of my life so far?”

“Bee.” Aman said warningly. “She’s your mother-”

“But she’s not yours, so stop defending her!” Bee snapped over her shoulder. “No. This isn’t yours. This isn’t a family, it’s a prison cell and I won’t stand for it a second longer!”

In the corner, Abrar coughed awkwardly.

“Not you, uncle, you seem decent so far, you’re welcome to stay.” Bee added hastily, shooting him an apologetic smile.

Again, Abrar tried to hide his smile.

“Thanks.” He coughed.

Bee nodded.

“How soon does this come into effect?” Aman asked Abrar quietly.

Abrar handed him a pen.

“As soon as you sign.”

“Aman.” Yasir said quickly, Jai muttering under his breath at the sound of the man’s voice. “Listen to me, it was still my father who looked after you-”

“Did you love my mother?” Aman interrupted, staring at him emptily. “Be honest and perhaps this won’t be so painful for you.”

Without hesitation, Yasir said – “Yes.”

Aman smiled sadly to himself.

“Liar.” He replied, signing the papers. Yasir cursed loudly, when Aman asked Bee – “Are you sure about this?”

“One hundred and fifty billion percent.” She told him emphatically, sitting down beside him. “And then I’m kicking your ass when we get home, you bloody idiot-”

“Don’t talk to your brother like that.” Jai teased.

“Shut up.” Bee glared. “Shut up, I haven’t even started on you, buddy.”

Aman zoned them out, shaking his head slightly as he signed the documents. He loved his mother and he always would – but he couldn’t help but feel she’d be proud of him for choosing this family, instead of her. Because he’d always have her, no matter what or where he was.

“You have two months to leave. Choose one of the houses, take your belongings from Lucknow, or go. In fact, keep Lucknow.” Aman told his father, hearing Abrar laugh happily as he checked to find Aman’s signature on every deed. “Bee and I will come back in a few months.” He turned to his uncle. “I don’t want the furniture packed. I want everything taken out of storage, exactly the way grandfather left it – and any renovations that need doing, let me know.” His uncle mock-saluted him.

With a strange sense of relief, Aman picked up his bag and watched as Tiff, Jai and Bee did the same (or rather, Bee got Tiff to grab hers, too).

“Mr Zafar.” Aman nodded at his father, slipping on his sunglasses. “Nice doing business with you.” He said, heading for the door as Jai sang loudly –

“Badass.”

. . .

“Oh.” Soph mumbled, after Aman finished telling her what happened. “So... Your Dad? He’s gone?”

Aman frowned.

“My father died via gun wound to the heart three months ago, but if you mean my sperm donor-” Soph waved her hand, nodding. Same thing. “- then yes. He’s moved back to Lucknow with Bee’s mother. Jai and I just got back from the house, we’re fixing it back up.”

“The one in Punjab?” Soph confirmed, Aman nodding. The house he’d grown up in. Soph smiled a small, private smile. “I’m really happy for you.”

“Thanks, but you want to know what would make me really happy?” Aman’s smile brightened. “Seeing you walk out on your husband. Feel like making that happen?”

Soph sighed.

“It’s not that simple.” Soph muttered. “And – forget about that for a moment! I was one of the best up and coming journalists in the city before and I know how to do my research, which means I know for a fact none of this... Stuff about Zayn and I...”

“Being in a relationship that puts you in Dante’s ninth circle of Hell, only on Earth?” Aman smiled falsely.

“N- wait, ninth?” Soph inquired.

“Treachery to kin. Plus the deeper he is, the better I feel.” Aman told her.

Soph nodded. That was pretty good actually. She would have gone with the eighth circle for hypocrites, but ninth did seem more fitting.

God, marriage was even sucking the literary genius out of her.

“Anyway.” Soph muttered, shaking her head free of distractions; which was exactly what Aman was trying to do. Distract her. “How did you even know-?”

“As impressive as it would be for me to claim some ethereal connection, Jai buckled.” Aman told her, making Soph swear. “Cute, by the way. You getting everyone to lie to me.”

Soph glared.

. . .

Two Days Ago Punjab, India

Aman stopped rifling through his bag for another T-shirt – sweaty after running in this heat didn’t even cover it -, as he found a pair of basketball and shorts tucked in neatly at the bottom. It was just as he went to slip the T-shirt on over his head, that he caught the smell of women’s perfume.

Stopping, Aman pulled the T-shirt back over his head and, feeling rather weird, pressed the T-shirt to his nose.

He blinked with regret as he recognized it. Soph’s perfume. He’d packed the pyjamas she’d left behind without thinking. They’d sat in the guest room back in New York all this time – he’d picked them up in a hurry when looking for a letter-opener in the guest bedroom just before he’d come back to India.

With a heavy sigh, Aman threw the T-shirt back into his suitcase, leaning against the bed.

“That is singlehandedly,” Jai began, making Aman start slightly to see his best friend in his bedroom doorway. “The most pathetic thing I have ever seen.”

“It stinks. I must have forgotten to wash it.” Aman lied, quickly standing before the suitcase as Jai walked towards it.

“Don’t try it with me.” Jai smiled sweetly. “I’ve licked your dirty socks on a dare, move.”

“No-” Aman said quickly – but not quickly enough. Jai had reached out and grabbed the T-shirt from behind him, as Aman had gone to react to a blow to the head that Jai hadn’t planned on delivering. Easily dodging Aman’s outstretched hand, Jai sniffed the plain white fabric.

“Oh, yeah, you’re right, it stinks.” Jai said sarcastically. “Of women’s perfume! Burberry. Am I right or am I right?”

Aman scowled.

Jai stopped circling the bed, throwing the T-shirt down and staring at his best friend.

“Now, listen up loser, ‘cause I’m only going to ask this once.” Jai said, watching as Aman snatched the T-shirt back and stuffed it into his suitcase, zipping it shut. “Are you done pretending now?”

“What are you-” Aman began to deny – but Jai didn’t bother hearing all of it, instead interrupting him with a sigh.

“Wrong answer.” He sang, before whistling loudly. “Attack!”

Aman was allowed one full second of staring at his best friend like he was a lunatic, before Raj and Tiff attacked him from behind. Raj gurgling on his leg happily and Tiff all but hauling Aman downstairs into the courtyard, Aman could only loudly protest in fear of hurting Raj.

“That’s my boy.” Jai sighed happily, seeing Aman’s rather angry expression at being outplayed. “Bee!” He yelled. “Intervention time!”

“I’m ready, I’m ready!” Bee called, appearing in the courtyard with a towel wrapped around her hair. After watching her husband shove Aman into a chair with a glare, Bee nodded at him. “Tiff, baby, can you take Raj? I have a feeling Jai and I need to handle this one.”

Tiff nodded curtly, but not before frowning at his brother-in-law with disgust.

“Freaking idiot.” Tiff muttered, ignoring Aman’s narrowed eyes as he picked up Raj and left the room.

“So.” Jai began conversationally. “You’ve sat on your ass for the past three months and done nothing about the fact the girl you love is shacked up with an unhinged psychopath drug addict. Did I miss something out?”

Stricken, Aman glared at Jai, before glancing at his sister. Strangely, Bee seemed entirely calm.

“Oh, he learnt his lesson.” Bee said pointedly, nodding to Jai. “He tells me what’s going on now. He’s not a moron like you.”

Bee and Jai high-fived, Aman staring at them with incredulity.

“I’m leaving-” Aman began, before Jai unceremoniously shoved him back down again.

“Enough of your chivalrous act.” Jai told him seriously. “I know what you’re doing and knock it off. You saving her marriage doesn’t make you a hero.”

“I’m not like you.” Aman glared. “I don’t go around breaking other people’s relationships.”

Jai rolled his eyes.

“That again? Seriously?” He sighed. “First of all, you and Zara weren’t even married yet. Second of all, if you want her so badly-” Jai motioned to the house. “By all means, take her.”

Aman said nothing. So much for that distraction.

“It’s beyond a joke.” Bee told her brother seriously, folding her arms over her chest. “I’m all for romantic cheese, but this? This is ridiculous. You’re moping, you’re barely concentrating at work-”

“He’s sniffing old T-shirts she used to wear.” Jai added.

Bee stared at Aman in disgust.

“Dude!” She yelled. “Boundaries!”

“He makes it sound a lot worse than it is!” Aman protested. “And... She’s married-”

“What’s your point?” Jai interrupted.

“- she should give her marriage a chance.” Aman argued. “She owes herself that. I’m not just going to ruin that for her. She may still be able to have a future-”

Aman was too busy rambling excuses, that he didn’t see the meaningful look Jai and Bee exchanged.

“Aman, any chance she had of giving her marriage a chance went out of the window got thrown out of the window when Zayn got violent with her before she left.” Jai said quietly.

He watched, as Aman’s words died on his tongue. Aman seemed lost for a moment – but then he saw Jai and Bee’s expressions and his face became the picture of outrage.

“What?” Aman asked slowly.

When Jai finished relaying how he’d found Soph after having her head bashed unceremoniously into a dresser – and how Zayn’s attitude had been anything but apologetic – Aman punched his best friend in the face.

. . .

“You can’t keep hitting him like that!” Soph said with a strangled groan. “Or... Anyone!”

“Why?” Aman asked irritably. “It made me feel better. I’m sure Zayn feels better when he does it to you and you take it, so why shouldn’t Jai?”

Soph was stunned by Aman’s response and judging by the grim satisfaction on his face, that had been the intended reaction. She had no real answer to that.

“It’s... With me, it’s different.” Soph mumbled. “He only does it when I say no to him-”

Aman’s mouth fell open.

“And that makes it better?” He shouted, running a hand through his hair and taking a moment to recompose himself. Oh, wow. “I – just – no. Go get your things. Now. Or so help me God, I will go in there myself and do it for you.”

Out of nowhere, Soph felt her body heat up with... Anger. At Aman.

“Don’t you get it? This is my mess! I have to deal with it!” Soph snapped. “This isn’t some kind of fairytale – you should know that better than anyone! You booked the tickets to London yourself and now you want me to magically drop everything and disappear with you?!”

“I’m not asking you to do this for me, I’m telling you to do this for myself!” Aman argued, interrupting as Soph opened her mouth. “And don’t start, don’t give me that cynical crap. You did the same thing when you and Jai found me at the fight in Lucknow, didn’t you?”

“Oh, that’s different!” Soph instantly shot back. “That – that wasn’t just for you, you’re asking me to just ditch everything and have nothing left-”

“Fine, fine.” Aman muttered. “Nothing left? What about the feelings we have for one another?”

Soph’s heart stopped.

“Yep, I’m bringing that up now.” Aman told her, with a cheerful kind of aggression. “I’m not asking you to leave him for me, I’m just the only one who isn’t scared of your crap enough to tell you to do it. But if you think I just flew halfway across the world to tell you to abandon everything and leave you with nothing, then your Cambridge education was worse than I ever thought.”

Soph let out a frustrated scream.

“Oxford is not that amazing!”

“All the Oxford rejects went to Cambridge.” Aman told her smugly.

“You are so-” Soph cursed, forcing herself to stop. “You don’t get it, Aman. I – I’m a... Disease.” Soph winced slightly at the word, remembering Eddie, but forced herself to continue. She gritted her teeth in an attempt to keep the tears at bay. “I – I can’t letanyone around be happy, okay? I will just end up screwing everything up, so I am making the right decision for the both of us-”

Aman stepped forward, towering over Soph as he remained now only inches away.

“And who gave you the right to make that decision for me?”

Soph immediately went to argue, but as Aman raised his eyebrows with a stoic expression, Soph realized... She didn’t have an argument.

He... Had Aman just said he was willing to get hurt?

“You-” Soph shook her head, her throat tightening. “You don’t mean that, you say that now, but-”

“I am not here to sweep you away and deal with the consequences later. We both know that’s not how I work.” Aman told her firmly. “God knows we both need time to ourselves to sort our lives out, but I am here for the long haul and we will do this properly.” Aman straightened as Soph stared up at him, lost for words. For the first time in her life, the queen of witty comebacks and unbridled, easily accessed rage had nothing left to say. “But before any of that, you need to push away your stupidgoddamn pride and accept this as a defeat.” Seeing the disbelief in Soph’s eyes, Aman softened slightly. He could kill someone for what had happened to her, what he’d lethappen to her in trying to do the right thing. Well, he wasn’t about to make the same mistake. “Now go and get your things. We’ll go to the mosque straight after and find out about a divorce.”

Soph took her time to recover. She felt like she was waking up from a coma, after all, one that had lasted for a... Long, long time.

Soph shook her head. Immediately, Aman opened his mouth to argue again, but she shook her hand.

“No, no, I... I made a trip last week.” Soph admitted, swallowing her fear as Aman’s face brightened ever so slightly in relief. “I... I know what to do.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Aman offered, catching how Soph began to play with her hands to hide the trembling.

“No, I need to do this by myself.” Soph told him, going to walk away – before hesitating. “But – one condition.”

Aman nodded.

“Before the divorce goes through, I’m going to do everything in my power to make him clean.” Soph told Aman seriously. “I don’t want to walk away with regrets. I won’t.”

Although Aman hesitated slightly, he slowly began to nod.

“I think that’s a stupid idea.” Aman admitted. “But I understand why.”

Soph took a deep breath.

“Wait outside.”

Aman nodded, following her out of the alley way and leaning against a black cab, watching her walk up the stairs.

It took Soph a grand total of twenty minutes to pack her things. She didn’t pack all of them, just the things she needed. Most of it, like the gifted designer dresses or endorsement brand presents, she didn’t want. It wasn’t hers, anyway. It belonged to Zayn Malik’s wife, Sophia Malik; someone who did not exist.

The cabbie had just taken her bags down, when Zayn appeared in the doorway.

“What are you doing?” He demanded, seeing Soph set her keys on the table.

Soph steeled herself. This wasn’t going to be pretty.

“You know what I’m doing.” She replied quietly. “And honestly, I don’t think you’re that surprised.”

Zayn seemed to lose the ability to speak for a minute, simply opening and closing his mouth as he stared.

“I can change.” He finally said quickly, running over to her. Soph sighed and moved away, rolling her eyes. “I – I mean it! We can fix things, I know I get a little – stressed, sometimes – but we can work on that, we can work on your issues-”

“I don’t want to work on my issues, Zayn!” Soph suddenly shouted in frustration, turning to face him. Her husband. Zayn. “I... At least not with you.” Soph closed her eyes. “You’re not good for me.”

“But you’re good for me-”

“And why the Hell should I be so selfless?!” Soph demanded furiously. Zayn blanched as she hit the countertop. “Well? What do I owe you? Nothing, nothing! You have stolen the one decent shot I had at a life and you don’t even care, the entire world is doing exactly what they please regardless of everyone else’s feelings, so why can’t I?” Soph groaned loudly. “God, Zayn! I wanted it to work and you said you did, but what did you do to prove that?”

“I can do it now.” Zayn said determinedly, stepping towards her. “Right now-”

“Zayn!” Soph shouted, shoving him away as he went to grab her face. Zayn stumbled back, just about catching himself on the counter. “Get away from me! The only thing I plan on doing is helping you get clean-”

“Then why are you leaving?”

“Because as soon as you’re clean and you realize what a dick you are, I want to be there to see it!” Soph admitted savagely. Here it came. The anger Zayn had so desperately wanted to see. “I want to see the suffering it gives you and I want to walk away knowing there is nothing on this Earth that can make me look back!”

“Then I won’t get clean.” Zayn told her fiercely. “Then you can never leave-”

“If that’s how it’s going to be, then you may as well overdose right now.” Soph snarled. Quickly, she fumbled about in one of the kitchen drawers, picking up a small bag of pills and empting it onto the counter. “Go on. Knock yourself out! Do it, go on! Hell, I’ll take one with you, just so watching you suffer is that much more of an experience!”

Zayn swiped the pills away, stepping towards her again, Soph keeping him at an arm’s length.

“I’m not letting you go.” Zayn shouted, trying his hardest to intimidate her. To make her stop for a moment, just a moment and then he could talk her out of it. The room was blurry and he was drunk from breakfast but he could do it. She loved him. He knew she did. He’d stop her; somehow. “I am not letting you go!”

“I’m not yours to let go, I do not need your fucking permission!” Soph shouted, twice as loud. Let the neighbours hear, she thought angrily. This was going to be a war anyway. “We are done!”

“Don’t say that-” Zayn blinked back sudden tears. “No. No!” He shouted, grabbing her wrist. “You’re not going, you’re not-”

The slap that Soph gave him wasn’t powerful because of Soph’s physical strength; it was powerful because it held every single iota of pain Soph had felt in the past year.

Zayn reeled back from the impact, black spots dancing in front of his eyes.

“Thirty days of no communication is the first step, after having the divorce officially sanctioned by the mosque.” Soph told Zayn tightly, tears of anger springing up in her eyes. This time, Soph had them completely under control. “But I’d like to start ahead. After the divorce, we can talk about rehab.”

Soph had just reached the door, when Zayn whispered hoarsely –

“Babe.”

Soph closed her eyes and felt her shoulders... Lift. She was free. She was free and he’d made it so much easier for her with that one word.

“I hope you enjoyed calling me that.” Soph told him seriously, with a small, sad smile. “Because that’s the last time I’m going to be around to hear it.”

What started as a walk soon turned into a run as she reached the stairs, dialling on her phone as she did.

“Oh, hello, Soph. To what do I owe this-”

“Daddy, Zayn’s been hitting me for the past few months.” Soph rushed. “He’s taking drugs and drinking and trying to do the worst things to me in every way possible and I tried to stick through it, I did, but I can’t do this, I can’t, so I’ve just left him.” Soph slowed down on the second stairwell, hearing Zayn hoarsely calling her from two floors above. “Can – can I come home?”

“He abused you?” Her father asked quietly. “Soph – this isn’t a hasty decision, are you sure-”

“I have enough bruises to have been sure the day I arrived back in London.” Soph told him, struggling to keep her voice steady. “I tried. And I’m sorry, I know you’re going to be disappointed in me, but I won’t- I just-” There was radio silence on the other end of the phone. “Can I come home?”

A few seconds passed.

“I’ll pick you up from the station.” Her father told her with quiet, cold confidence. “I’ll tell your mother to clean out your old room, we’ll go to the mosque first thing tomorrow.”

Soph felt hot tears fall down her face in relief, smiling as she nodded.

“I’ll be home soon.” Soph managed to say, hanging up and running out of the building, just as Zayn reached the stairwell that Soph had been standing on mere moments before.

A lot of things Soph hadn’t accounted for happened that day. She left her husband, vowing to see him clean one day – and she sincerely hoped that the day he was cured, she would no longer want him cured for the wrong reasons. Rose called her to inform her she’d gotten a job as a criminal psychologist with the Metropolitan Police. She found out later, when at home in her pyjamas, cuddling her parents on the sofa and watching a film, that Kara, Liam’s elusive friend in rehab, had been released. She would be moving into an apartment next door to Alanna, Niall and Isolde – the latter pair of whom had officially planned that they one day planned to be engaged.

At being asked if she knew someone Kara could room with, Soph offered the name of Vivienne, a childhood friend of hers. She’d been stressed lately and had decided she needed to move away from the negative influence of the partying model lifestyle, or at least the one she’d found herself in. Liam and Soph set up a meeting for the two. They would later hit it off and become fast friends.

The next morning, Soph would check the news to find that Dianna Agron had died of an overdose the night before, at a fancy London nightclub. Other guests of the club that night had apparently been other actor friends of hers, as well as pop-star Zayn Malik, who had looked dull and scared when shown watching the body leave the club in the early hours of that morning. When Rose had called Soph to tell her the news, Soph had heard Harry in the background.

Apparently, despite Rose having had “broken up” with him for being such a stranger a few days prior, Harry had returned, adamant to stay friends. Eddie had become distant anyway, Rose told her, and although she was still looking for answers from both of them, she couldn’t help but find herself falling for Harry. Just a little.

But before all of that, before Soph had even gone home, she found herself at Heathrow Airport.

Aman stood before her, smiling slightly.

“So, how does it feel?” He asked, his backpack strapped to his shoulder. “Being an adult?”

Soph shook her head, smiling in awe.

“Like I’m a child again.” She admitted, the two of them laughing slightly. Slowly exhaling a breath, Soph looked up at the man before her. “Two years. No contact, though I am stealing Jai and will be checking up on you through Bee.” Soph smiled. “And if the universe thinks we’re meant to be... We will be.”

Aman nodded to himself.

“Sounds like a plan. Though, your friend Rose got a hold of my number.” Soph’s eyebrows shot up at that, Aman grinning at her expression. “She got it from a guy called Eddie. He told me where to find you.”

Soph’s shocked amusement faded slightly. Eddie.

“Oh, I have something for you.” Aman muttered, digging his hand into his jean pocket. He pulled out a slim, silver watch, with intricate blue detail. Soph’s eyebrows furrowed, recognizing it from somewhere... His wrist. That was a Baume & Mercier watch, one she’d seen Aman wipe lovingly more than a few times back in New York. “Here.”

“It’s mine?” Soph asked in surprise, taking the watch carefully, her and Aman deliberately not touching.

Aman snorted.

“No.” He muttered, looking aghast. Soph rolled her eyes. “It’s on loan.” Aman couldn’t help but grin, a goofy, cheeky grin. “You can return it to me as a reunion present.”

Soph rolled her eyes, smiling.

“See you in two years.” Soph finally said, offering her hand.

Instead, Aman pulled her close and kissed her gently on the forehead. At the feeling of his lips, Soph closed her eyes and felt... At peace.

“See you soon.” Aman told her, smirking down at her slightly, pulling away as Soph slowly opened her eyes. “Take care, Soph.” Aman wrinkled his nose. “And change your surname back before I see you next?”

Soph laughed and nodded.

“I’ll do my best.”

Soph watched Aman walk away, holding the watch tightly to her chest. She stepped backwards, feeling... Independence, for the first time in a while. She was finally taking control, not just pretending to.

“Oh and Soph!” Soph turned, Aman still walking backwards as he called out to her. The rest of the commuters at Heathrow carried on by, barely interested in the young couple. “Sophia Zafar. Has a ring to it, don’t you think?”

Soph couldn’t help but laugh. Loudly.

“You’re going to at least have to woo me first!” Soph called out, still laughing.

Aman’s goofy smile turned into a confident, entirely jubilant smirk, one so surprisingly sexy that Soph had to hide how she started slightly.

“I plan to.” He told her.

As they both began to walk away, still facing one another, they couldn’t help but smile – even when they turned and began to go their separate ways.

By the time the Christmas of 2017 had rolled around, Sophia was officially divorced with her original surname returned to her. She liked it. She felt glad she didn’t have a new one right away – but looked forward to the day when she was ready for it.

Zayn struggled with his drinking, though a group effort meant he managed to get off of the pills, at least. Vivienne and Louis began to form a bond and when Soph was told of what had happened between Zayn and Vivienne... She pretended she hadn’t heard. It had been Louis to tell her and Soph assured him that ignoring it did not mean she couldn’t forgive Vivienne; she already had. But Vivienne and Zayn needed her to forget, more than she needed to acknowledge it. By then, she’s already faced her demons.

Rose’s job with the London Met was a hit and within a few months, Rose had a luxury apartment in the city all to herself. She was different, Soph knew... But it was good. She was mature and although still fun and playful, had a steel to her that had been there since the accident. She’d forgotten half of her life and struggled on a daily basis to carry on, not knowing who she was; but she’d be damned if she let her future be anywhere near as forgettable.

And, as Niall, Isolde and Alanna began to truly be a happy family, as Kara and Liam began to gravitate towards each other from friendship and a trust Liam worked hard to earn, as Rose slowly began to unpick her past with Harry and Eddie as she fell in love with the former, as Eddie’s sickness increased to only Soph’s knowledge... Soph and Rose’s friendship blossomed, in a way it never had before.

Neither Soph nor Rose truly knew what the future had in store for them. But they were looking forward to it; and looked ahead, together.

#tr #tr35