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I haven’t seen Linda since my last placement—the same placement where I crossed paths with Kieran again, after all those years—but her voice rings sharp and clear in my head.

She once told me I was built for it. That I stayed calm in the pressure that made other people bolt.

She was the first person who made me feel like I could be more than capable. I could be needed.

I click the job posting. Read it once. Then again. My fingers hover over the mouse like it might disappear if I blink. It’s fast-paced. High-pressure. Everything I’ve been training for. Everything I’ve missed.

Without thinking too hard, I grab my phone.

You’re not gonna believe this.

South Havens Trauma just posted a new position. A&E. Guess who the contact is?

Linda!!

The reply is immediate.

Naomi [11:34]

SHUT THE FRONT DOOR

Ellie, that’s fate. Apply. Right now. Do not pass go. Do not make tea. Just APPLY.

(also tell Linda she still owes me prosecco)

I smile. Can’t help it. It stretches across my face before I can fight it.

Already drafting the email.

And I am.

It’s not a job offer. Not yet. It’s just an opening. A flicker of a door. But it’s mine to knock on. Mine to walk through.

And right now, that’s everything.

The light outside has shifted now. It’s that late-afternoon blue that softens everything. I let it wash through the kitchen window as I move through the house in quiet, steady motions.

I open the drawer by the front door, the one David always claimed as his, and start sorting through it like I’m excavating a life I didn’t realise had been layered over mine.

Receipts. Keys I can’t identify. A pen I’m pretty sure he never once used. A tangle of headphone cords and charger cables that don’t fit any device we still own.

I don’t linger. I don’t dig. I just clear. There’s something cathartic about it. No sadness. No dramatics. Just... sorting. Deciding what gets to stay and what doesn’t. What’s mine and what never really was.

It’s like turning the page on something that needed to end a long time ago.

Later, I lace up my trainers, Kieran’s hoodie already pulled over my head. The same one I never gave back. The one that still smells like him.

I tell myself it’s just because it’s comfortable. But I know better. I don’t intend on returning it anytime soon.

I head to the bottom of the stairs and call up, “Mia? I’m going for a run. I won’t be long!”

A muffled “’Kay!” floats down from her room, followed by the distinct thump of music through her headphones.

“Don’t open the door to anyone, alright?” I add, louder this time.

There’s a pause, then another muffled, “Got it!”

I don’t make a plan. I just step outside, feel the cold air nip at my cheeks, and start moving. I walk first. Then jog. My feet hit the pavement in a rhythm that feels instinctive.

My breath clouds the air. My heart settles into a steady beat. And the rest of the world fades. I don’t take headphones. I don’t need music. The sound of my footsteps is enough.

It’s grounding. Real. Mine.

By the time I get back, the sun has slipped behind the rooftops, casting long shadows over the street.

The air carries that crisp, early-evening bite that can only mean autumn is in full swing, my favourite time of year.

When the nights stretch longer, the evenings grow softer, and everything feels like it’s winding down into something slower.

I peel off the hoodie and step into the bathroom, shedding layers until I’m under the shower, letting the water hit my skin in a warm, endless stream.

I stand there longer than I need to, head tilted back, fingers combing through my hair. It feels like a ritual. A washing away of everything I don’t want to carry anymore.

When the water runs lukewarm, I step out, wrap myself in a towel, and pad barefoot to my room.

Not the one I shared with David. I haven’t stepped foot in there since I got the house back, and I’m not sure when I will.

I sleep in the guest room now. The room that’s warm and still, where the streetlamp outside spills soft amber through the curtains and paints gentle lines across the walls.

I’ve added a blanket I love, a potted plant on the dresser, and a candle that smells like vanilla and clean laundry.

The bed is always made. The sheets are fresh. It’s quiet here, and calm.

It doesn’t carry ghosts.

This space is mine. And it feels like safety.

I pull on my favourite fleece pyjamas and pull the duvet around me like armour.

The house is calm. The laundry’s done. The dishes are dry. Mia is tucked up in her room, watching something on her iPad with one earbud hanging out like always.

It feels… still—it feels real.

And just as my eyes flutter shut, my phone buzzes against the bedside table.

Kieran [23:46]

Can’t sleep. Blaming that dress you had on last night. Criminal.

You mean my cardigan?

Kieran [23:47]

No, Ellie. That slinky little number you had on under it.

Ohhh, that old thing?

Kieran [23:48]

Mmmm. And those thighs.

This is dangerously close to sexting, Hayes.

Kieran [23:49]

I haven’t even started yet, Carter. Want me to?

Goodnight, Kieran

Kieran [23:50]

Spoil sport.

Night, Ellie

I set my phone down with a smile tugging at my lips. There’s a heat in my cheeks I don’t try to smother. A thrum under my skin that hasn’t gone away since last night.

And underneath it all, something steadier.

I’m not rushing this. I’m not losing myself in someone else. I’m walking toward something, something that feels honest. Slow. True.

Today wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t perfect. But it was mine.

Every damn second of it.