The day begins like any other—canoodling with my live-in boyfriend, making weekend plans over breakfast, and arguing about the apartment renovation list. Then my best friend and business partner texts, begging me to ditch Thad so we can meet for a lunchtime quickie in our usual spot.

Small problem: I’m Thad. Oops.

By midday, I’ve lost one ratface boyfriend, my best mate, the company I built from scratch, and the courage to hire a hitman—although I’m not ruling that last one out just yet. The future I had neatly mapped out is toast. In its place, a laundry list of awkward questions, rumours, and pitying looks.

And so, I do what I do best. I run—my crumbling life fading in the rearview mirror. No plan. No destination. Just a road. Through a forest. In a storm. To a dog. And a shed. And a towering man who smells of pine, rain, and, mercifully, bacon.

There’s dirt under my nails, something growing in my heart, and suddenly I’m breathing again. Breathing and smiling and lying, lying, lying. To the man I’m falling for. To the people I care about. To myself, most of all.

But for every lie, there’s a reckoning. And when the truth catches up, and the heart is truly at stake, there’s no running anymore.

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