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But I just couldn’t.

I chose to distance myself from everyone, not out of spite, but because if I engaged in those conversations, it would only make me feel even more terrible for my deceitful actions.

I’m embarrassed.

Before I knew it, the opening exhibition night at the gallery in Sydney came around, which brings me to the present—making myway to Wattle Creek Regional Airport. My parents opted to drive me here.

Yesterday morning, I had to carefully wrap my artworks individually and package them before shipping them off. Heading into town to our local post office, I’d bumped into Grace Mitchell, and our conversation plays out in my mind vividly.

“How you holding up, dear?” Grace had asked.

“I’m fine. What do you mean?”

“Honey, I know just about everything that goes on in my household and outside.”

I smiled nervously. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to cause any trouble. I’m sure Olivia’s told you by now—” But she’d cut me off.

“Olivia? Oh, no, dear. Olivia hasn’t told me anything.”

“Oh... but how do you know?” Grace had smiled warmly, placing a comforting hand on mine.

“Honey, I’m his mother. It’s my job to know what goes on in his life. I’ve been watching him for the past month or so, dear. I knew from the start. Everywhere you’d go, he’d be there; you’d call, he’d be there. He lives and breathes you, honey.”

I choked out a sob.

“I don’t think you see it, but you are the ‘something’ that’s been missing in his life. And that man hasn’t been himself for a while. Then, all of a sudden, he’s smiling more, talking more, and performing heroic acts. You did that, darling.”

“But Olivia…” I had started, but Grace swatted the air.

“Don’t you worry about my daughter. She’ll see it, too, soonenough.”

As we pull up to the airport, I take a deep breath, ridding myself of those thoughts, trying to steel myself for what’s to come. I step out of the car, thanking my parents for the ride.

“Sweetheart, we’re just a phone call away if you need us,” Mum says, her voice filled with concern.

“I know, Mum. Thanks,” I reply, forcing a smile.

After everything went down, after Dad kept asking when he was going to see Bradley again, I had to tell them what had happened. It broke my heart to see their faces droop as I told them. They really liked having him around, even if it was short-lived.

Dad remains silent, his expression unreadable. I can sense his disappointment, even though he’ll never admit it. It breaks my heart to see him like this.

“I’ll be okay,” I assure them, trying to sound more confident than I feel.

“We love you, Amelia,” Dad finally speaks, his voice heavy with emotion.

“I love you both,” I say, blinking back tears.

“Kat will pick you up from the airport, okay?” Mum adds, her voice soft. I nod, grateful for my sister’s presence in my life, especially now.

“Okay,” I reply, grabbing my suitcase and backpack before heading inside the airport. As I reach the reception desk to check in and retrieve my tickets, I can’t help but wonder if things will ever be the same again.

Pulling out my phone, I check for any messages from Olivia, but there’s nothing. With a heavy heart, I open our text message thread and reread over the unread messages, my breathing hitching as I swallow the lump down my throat.

Above our thread is my chat with Bradley, and thelastmessages that sit there are from him and me the day he’d gone off to help with the fires.

How can I be with him now if Olivia never wants to talk to me again? As the airport announces my flight is ready to board, I take a deep breath and gather my things. The airport bustles around me, but I feel disconnected, lost in my thoughts.

I find my seat and settle in, staring out the window. The engines hum to life, and the plane begins moving, slowly making its way toward the runway. As we take off, I feel a sense ofweightlessness, both from the plane lifting off the ground and from the weight of the past week lifting off my shoulders.