Freya.

I sat across from Zoey at the small corner table in the quiet café, my hands wrapped tightly around a lukewarm cup of coffee like it was the only thing keeping me grounded. Zoey was busy sipping her cappuccino, eyes fixed on me with that familiar “I’m waiting” look that said she had all the time in the world and zero patience for me holding back.

She had suggested we come here so we could talk properly without random scammers or exes interrupting. Now here we were, and I still didn’t know where to begin.

“Spill it, babe,” she said, leaning forward with a grin. “I’ve got time and...