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‘You’re talking in riddles,’ I exclaim, throwing my hands in frustration. ‘If this is about Ash, just say what you’re accusing him of.’

She barks out a laugh. ‘I’m not accusing him.’

‘Then who?’

Silence stretches between us, almost unbearable. I wait for her to explain, to make it make sense, but she just stands there looking at me like I should already know. Her gaze drifts toward the hallway, then back to me.

‘You wouldn’t get it,’ she says finally. ‘You’ve never had to.’ Frustration spikes through me. ‘Stop saying that. Had to what?’

The vulnerability that crossed her face for only a moment is already gone, and she’s shutting down again. I can see it happening: the wall sliding back into place behind her eyes.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ she mutters. ‘Forget I said anything.’

‘I can’t just forget—’

‘Yes, you can,’ she says, firmer now. Offensive again. ‘That’s what you’re good at.’

‘I don’t know what you think happened to you,’ I say, my voice shaking. I’m exhausted and frustrated by this conversation. ‘But don’t drag me into whatever this is.’

‘You wouldn’t have survived it if he’d gone to your room first,’ she says quietly. ‘You’re too fucking weak.’

She strides out of the room, slamming my bedroom door shut behind her. I stand there, my heart racing, trying to piece together what just happened. My room first? I knew Ash long before we ever moved here. My mind spins, dizziness washing over me until I can barely stand on my feet.

I didn’t realise she resented me, that she looked at me and saw someone who had more.

Once I had a taste of him …

He didn’t exactly push me away.

I press my hand to my chest as though I can physically hold my heart together. Inhaling a steadying breath, I move to the door and open it, peering down the hallway to see Isla’s door closed. I need to go get some water and calm down, but I don’t want to face my parents either.

Downstairs, a cupboard slams. Mum’s voice floats up the staircase.

‘We’re heading to the shop before it gets busy! Both of you, shoes on!’

The normalcy of it feels obscene, like the world shouldn’t be allowed to continue after what just happened between us. I was already facing the possibility of losing Ash. Now I know I’ve lost Isla. There’s no repairing the damage that’s been done.

Grant calls out something about needing milk. The mundanity of it scrapes against my nerves, but honestly, getting out of this house, even for something as simple as grocery shopping, might stop my thoughts from eating me alive. They’ve taken my phone, my laptop, everything. I’m bored as hell. Reading is usually my escape, and I have enough books to build a fortress around myself, but it’s hard to lose myself in fictional love stories when my own feels like it’s been detonated.

‘Girls?’ Mum calls out, stomping up the stairs as she often does when she’s got things to do. She opens Isla’s door and pokes her head in. ‘Come on, we’re all going. I don’t want you girls here on your own after the break in.’

I nod, stepping out without argument. I can’t stay in this room, not with memories of him pressed into every corner and Isla’s words threatening to close in on me like a tightening noose.

Isla emerges from her room with a surly expression, wiping at her face quickly, like she hadn’t realised she was crying until she was around others.

‘I’m not going,’ she says flatly.

Mum turns slowly and sets her hands on her hips, the universal sign she’s run out of patience.

‘I feel sick,’ Isla replies, already moving back inside her bedroom. ‘Headache.’

Mum sighs, weariness settling into her shoulders. She doesn’t argue with her anymore, and I can see she’s resigned herself to waiting it out.

‘Fine. Bryn, you coming?’

I hesitate. Part of me wants to stay, to demand answers and force Isla to finish whatever she started, but I don’t think she will, and I don’t know if I want to hear it if she does. I can’t stand to listen to her speak about Ash anymore. It hurts too much.

‘Yeah,’ I say, my voice steadier than I feel. ‘I’m coming.’