chapter 8 Chapter 8: Trouble Always Follows The trouble had a beginning, even if it no longer felt that way to Mark. It always started small.A favour.A lift.A conversation kept deliberately vague.Mark had not set out to be reckless. He had been tired. Injured. Short on money. The kind of tired that blurred judgement, that…

Chapter 7 Mark stood outside Mina’s flat longer than he meant to .The hallway smelled faintly of damp carpet and old paint, a familiar, unremarkable scent that usually steadied him. Today it did not. He listened anyway. For movement. For the quiet signs of occupation he had learned to recognise over the years. A kettle…

28 January 2026 Today I played referee.Not the dramatic kind. The quiet, watchful one. One child, their partner, a bit of friction in the air. I stood between words before they hardened, translated tone, slowed things down. I’m good at that. Maybe too good. But today it felt useful, not draining.Later, I caught sight of…

Toward the SunI am not the woman I waswhen the world felt sharpand every doorway demanded proof.I am softer now,but not smaller.I wake with light on my hands.Even on quiet daysthere is warmth in the kettle,music in the ordinary.I have learned how joy hidesin unimportant places:a laugh that surprises me,the way morning forgives the night,the…

by MissT She is not fragile, though she has cracked in places. She laughs where it hurts, uses humour like duct tape on old wounds never properly stitched. She loves too hard— falls for potential, not proof. Mothers the wounded. Calls it loyalty when it is hope that refuses to die. She knows better. She…

The Shape of Staying Chapter 6 Morning arrived without ceremony.No footsteps on the stairs.No signs of trespass.No proof that anything had happened at all.Mina woke stiff and half-sitting, the chair still wedged beneath the handle, her neck aching from sleep that barely qualified as rest. Pale light filtered through the curtains, thinning the night until…

Chapter 5What Waits Mina didn’t move. She lay still, counting her breaths, keeping them shallow enough not to give herself away. The smell lingered in the room, clean and deliberate. Not the ghost of something old, but the presence of something recent. Aftershave. Familiar. Wrong.She slid her hand beneath the duvet and wrapped her fingers…

Dodging Stress Balls… Dev Diaries DailyJanuary 24th Today was Ant’s birthday, and we went out to a restaurant to mark it. Nothing grand. Just food, presence, and an effort to keep the day light. We were actively trying to avoid stress. That intention mattered, even if the universe didn’t quite cooperate.The bench moved again.Not mine.…