The morning air still held the chill of night as I stepped outside, pleased with myself for being up early enough to finally get that stubborn tractor fixed. But when I reached the shed, the engine was already purring. Sam and Aaron had beaten me to it.

Of course they had.

“Well,” I muttered, trying to hide my smile, “at least I can turn over the top field.”

Unless they’d done that too.

They had.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was happening. Yesterday, I’d watched you face every single thing life had thrown at you — head-on, no flinching, no excuses. And something in me cracked. If you could do that after everything, surely I could stop running from my own ghosts.

Worth the wait, eh?

Two words. And they hit me harder than I expected. Because in that moment, standing there with the morning light catching your face, I realized just how long I’d been waiting. How long we’d both been waiting.

“I’ve missed you,” I said.

“I’ve missed us.”

The words hung between us, fragile but real. We’d been knocked down so many times — by life, by loss, by all the cruel tricks this world plays — but somehow, impossibly, we always found our way back.

Can’t keep us down.

And then the phone rang.

---

“Still with him, then?”

Dawn’s voice cut through the warmth like a blade. I should have known. She never called just to chat.

“You know you’re better than this, Dawn.”

“Moira, I am pregnant with his child. He promised me he had nothing to do with what happened to you.”

“Do you really believe that?” I heard myself asking, though I already knew the answer. She wanted to believe it. Needed to believe it. That’s what made it so dangerous. “You must know, deep down. He set me up because I was in his way. And one day, trust me — he will do the same to you.”

“He didn’t, and he won’t.”

The denial was desperate, almost childlike. My stomach turned.

“You can’t possibly be that stupid.”

Silence. And then the words came out — darker than I’d intended, but honest. Sometimes honesty is all you have left.

“It’s that baby of yours I feel sorry for. With the Devil as a dad.”

---

The pub was warm, full of familiar laughter and the clink of glasses. But Nicola was wound tight, her new baby fussing in her arms.

“An absolute cherub,” she cooed. “Just like our Angel. Before she lost her wings.”

“Yeah, she’d be perfect if I could get her to sleep for more than five minutes.”

“She’ll be crying for her birth mum.”

“Or just crying because that’s what babies do.”

The tension crackled. Sarah and Leyla were bonding well, apparently. But this morning, the little one was just cranky. That’s what they said, anyway.

“Bet she’s hungry. Do you want me to warm a bottle up?”

“Actually, I’ve just given her one, thank you. I feed her myself sometimes too.”

The pause was loaded. As in…?

“As in… Medical science. It’s a wonderful thing.”

---

And then she walked in — Manpreet, with the kind of timing that could only be fate.

“Ah, there she is! The new arrival!”

“We were on our way to the pub, and Manpreet saw you come in here.”

“Yeah, I couldn’t resist.”

The baby was doing well. Putting on weight. Sleeping — well, they were working on the sleeping part.

“Make the most of it,” Jimmy chuckled. “Before you know it, she’ll be this big, slamming doors, glued to her phone… rolling her eyes when you breathe. Telling you you’re wrong about everything.”

“So much to look forward to, right?”

The laughter was easy, warm. But underneath it, something simmered — the unspoken truth that the most dangerous thing in this world isn’t an enemy. It’s a person who believes every lie they’re told.

“You sit down, I’ll bring them over.”

“Let me give you a hand.”

“So how are you both coping, really?”

“Like Sarah said. OK.”

“So only just married, and now it’s all about the new mum and baby. A lot of partners can feel excluded. Pushed out.”

“Not me. We’re good, thanks.”

And then a voice called from the doorway:

“Caitlin? You ready?”

A pause. A flicker of something — guilt? longing? — crossing her face.

“Oh. Sorry.”

And she was gone.