Page 102 of Silent Shadows

Daisy keeps her eyes forward as we walk, boots crunching through the pine needles.

“The podcast started as something real,” she says after a second. “I was young and broke and kind of a disaster. I thought talking about sex and relationships openly would make me feel less alone, I guess.” She laughs under her breath, eyes dropping toward the trail for a second.

“I built this whole career around being the girl who says the wild thing first.” She gestures vaguely. “Sex. Dating. Relationships. Female rage. All of it.”

“You’re clearly very good at it.”

Her mouth twitches. “Thanks.”

“I mean it.”

“I know,” she says quietly.

We step over a fallen branch together.

The woods are quieter here. Sunlight filters gold through the pines while the trail narrows near the ridge.

Daisy exhales slowly.

“The thing is…” She shrugs one shoulder. “At some point, people stop listening for anything underneath the persona.”

I feel that.

“They think they know you.” Her voice gets louder and faster as she releases pent-up frustration. “Because you’re loud. Or funny. Or confident. Or because you can talk about anal on the internet without combusting.” I glance over, not flinching at her words. She continues, “Which, don’t get me wrong, I’m all here for sex positivity, but I don’t love that it’s all people have come to expect. And I am confident in the stances I take, but…”

“But?”

“But fucking hell! It’s a lot to carry. Confidence becomes a costume eventually.” She laughs again, but it sounds tight and forced. “Then one day you realize nobody’s asking if you’re okay anymore because you accidentally taught everyone to believe you don’t need anything.”

The honesty in her voice hurts to hear. I can imagine it—the shell. The performance. Not totally fake, but polished sharp enough to survive.

“You know,” I say carefully, “I listened to more than just that one episode about the data centers.”

Daisy nearly trips over a rock.

“You did?”

I nod.

Her eyes narrow suspiciously. “Why?”

“Maya made us do research.”

“What episodes?”

I grin despite myself because she looks genuinely alarmed.

“There was one with the relationship therapist who said most straight men think emotional vulnerability counts as flirting.”

Daisy points at me. “That woman was correct.”

“And there was another one.” I glance ahead, trying to remember. “The woman who was on a bunch of Twilight Zone episodes.”

She blinks.

“The actress who talked about ageism in Hollywood?”

“Yeah.” I nod. “You fangirled so hard. I could tell you genuinely loved her work.”