‘I can’t wait to tell Luna about my new bedroom,’ he said to himself and turned, once again, to his toys, smiling.

Norah watched him play, feeling tentative relief. Freddie wasn’t completely devastated, not even close. There could be stuff down the line; she wasn’t discounting that. But Norah felt in her heart that as long as he had his mum (and a bit of therapy), he’d be OK. They’d be OK.

All this time, this had been what had stopped her. This conversation. Not ending her marriage, not leaving Max. Breaking her son’s heart. Hers wasn’t all that broken in the grand scheme of it because the millstone of Max would no longer hang around her neck. She was free from the misery of this crap marriage. She could move forward.

She texted Poppy. I need help moving. You in? There’s a pizza in it for you.

The text back was brief yet warming. Good opening offer. My counter? Pizza plus garlic bread.

Norah felt a truly happy smile slide onto her face. Deal.

Twenty Years Ago

Norah sat in the back row of the lecture hall, her notebook open but untouched. The professor’s droning voice about market analysis and financial projections felt like a distant hum. She couldn’t focus, couldn’t muster the enthusiasm that her classmates seemed to have. Business school was supposed to be a stepping stone to a stable future, a practical choice that her mother had hammered into her head. But it felt like a prison sentence, a daily grind that wore away at her spirit.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she glanced at the screen. A text from Joy: Turn on Channel 7. You won’t believe this.

Curious and desperate for a distraction, Norah slipped out of the lecture hall and found a quiet spot in the student lounge. She grabbed the remote and flipped the TV to Channel 7, some music show.

And there was Poppy, standing on a brightly lit stage, guitar in hand.

Norah had heard about this, of course. That Poppy had been recruited into some girl band. It seemed so wildly out of character for her that Norah hadn’t believed it at first. But there was no denying it now.

It had been a year since she’d seen Poppy. Seeing her now, in the flesh, was like a punch to the gut. Poppy looked older and more polished, but the essence of the girl Norah had fallen for was still there.

The camera zoomed in on Poppy’s face, and Norah’s heart hurt. It was only then that the music Poppy was playing filtered through to Norah. She knew this song. Norah’s irritation turned to cold disbelief.

It was “Norah’s Song”. A twisted, upbeat version, with her name replaced with ‘Noah’.

She sank into a chair, the weight of the moment crashing down on her. Business school, the constant pressure from her mother, the loss of her artistic dreams—all of it paled in comparison to this. This was the final straw, the cruellest blow.

Norah heard that song many times that year, in pubs and clubs and at student parties. It hurt every time. But that first time was the worst. The moment she realised how little she truly meant to Poppy Jennings.

Twenty-Four

Now

As Norah and Poppy made their way through Norah’s soon-to-be former living room, carrying boxes of Norah's stuff, they could hear Max in the kitchen muttering, ‘No one better touch my pint glasses.’ He had been arguing with Norah about what belonged to him for the past hour but had thankfully retreated to regroup.

‘Do you think he'll ever stop being a massive pain in the arse?’ Poppy asked Norah as she struggled to keep her box balanced.

‘Probably not,’ Norah replied with a sigh. ‘But it won’t be my problem soon.’

Just then, Max made a reappearance, arms crossed and scowl firmly in place. ‘What are you two doing?’ he demanded.

‘I’m moving my stuff out because you had an affair,’ Norah said wearily. ‘Did you forget?’

That flustered him, but only briefly. ‘No, I mean... That's mine,’ he said, pointing to a cream lamp poking out of Poppy’s box. ‘And that picture frame, too.’

Poppy rolled her eyes. The bloody gall he was displaying. He should have been crying and begging for forgiveness for betraying his marriage and his family. And he was nitpicking over lamps. She wanted to smack him. But Poppy knew it wasn’t her place to pop him one. She was here to pack.

‘Hey, Max,’ Poppy said from between gritted teeth. ‘Why don't you go fetch us some drinks? We could all use a break.’

Max shot her a look. ‘Daisy—’ he began.

‘POPPY,’ Norah said loudly.

It was the first time Poppy had seen her get angry with him all day.

He rolled his eyes. ‘Poppy, I need to talk to my wife. Alone.’

Poppy looked at Norah, and she shook her head.

‘No, I’m good where I am, thanks,’ Poppy told him.

Max looked incensed. He pointed at Poppy’s box. ‘Fine. But that bloody lamp stays.’

‘Are you serious? I’m giving you all the big furniture,’ Norah said.

‘Only because it won’t fit at your mum’s,’ he said smugly.

Norah shook her head. ‘Fine, take the lamp, you petty...’ She let the sentence trail off.

Max stepped towards Poppy, a smug smile on his annoying face.

‘No, allow me,’ Poppy said, putting the box down and taking the lamp out. He reached out, and Poppy proffered it towards his greedy little hands. Just before his fingertips made contact, Poppy dropped the lamp. CRACK. It was shattered beyond repair. ‘Oh, god, sorry!’ she said.

‘You did that on purpose!’ Max raged.

‘Who, me?’ Poppy asked, picking up the box and turning to take it out to the van.

She caught Norah’s eye, expecting to see annoyance. Instead, they were twinkling with delight.

She took the box out, and Norah was right behind her with her own box. They loaded them into the back of the white van together.

‘You’re the best,’ Norah said.

Poppy felt something about that compliment but tried to play it cool. ‘I’m a drama queen,’ Poppy said. ‘But he had it coming.’

‘He sure did. This whole thing has been a nightmare, but knowing you have my back is... It’s nice.’ Norah pushed the boxes deeper into the van and went back into the house for the next box.

Poppy realised she was blushing. She never blushed. What the hell?

But it got worse. As they continued to move boxes and furniture, Poppy found herself thinking about how nice Norah looked with sweat on her brow and determination in her eyes. She quickly shrugged off those thoughts, chalking them up to exhaustion and stress from the move.

But deep down, the small flutter of attraction towards Norah was building. Or maybe it was more accurate to say that it was reigniting.

Twenty-Five