“What happened? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I try to smile but my cheeks barely cooperate. “All fine. They’d run out of éclairs.”
She gives me a flat stare. “That is not a face people make about pastry.”
“I’m just tired,” I insist. “Would you mind if I take the afternoon off? Yesterday was… a lot. In a good way. I just need some air. A walk.”
Her worry sharpens, but I hold her gaze steadily, constructing the most plausible version of calm I can muster.
“Are you sure?” she asks gently.
“Yes. Honestly. I just need a reset.”
She hesitates, clearly unconvinced, but nods. “Go on, then. I’ve got things covered.”
“Thanks,” I say, already stepping back. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I grab my bag and leave before she can ask any more questions. As soon as the door closes behind me, the mask slips. Inside, the battle is already raging: Alex’s kindness and certainty on one side, my mother’s words and the women’s laughter on the other. I want to believe him. I want to hold on to the warmth he put in my chest. But the doubt is quick, practiced, and knows exactly where to strike.
Still… there’s a flicker. A stubborn little spark refusing to die.
I slip into my hiking boots the second I’m home. No sitting. No thinking. Moving feels easier than letting the noise in my head win, so I lace up quickly and head straight for the little overlook above the village. It’s technically the very start of the Ambleside Horseshoe, but really it’s just the low rise where locals eat sandwiches, sulk, or have a cry when life gets too loud. Safe ground. Familiar ground. Today it feels like the only place I won’t completely unravel.
The incline hits straight away. Fellside doesn’t bother warming you up; you walk twenty steps and suddenly you’re climbing to Mordor. Within minutes I’m sweating, my breath coming shorter than I’d like, and my thighs are already complaining. Brilliant. Emotional turmoil with bonus cardio.
I keep going.
My thoughts chase me as the path steepens. Those women from the bakery have built themselves a cosy little home inside my skull, replaying their smug laughter over and over. But there’s that spark inside me too. Small. Stubborn. Refusing to lie down.
Alex showed up at the shop because he wanted to see me. Alex asked me out again before I could talk myself into believing he didn’t mean it. Alex built shelves because I mentioned a dream for the shop. Alex kissed me under the stars. Slow. Careful. Like I mattered. Like he wanted me. Not a consolation prize. Not a joke. Me.
I huff as loose gravel skitters under my boots. “That’s at least six solid points,” I mutter to myself. “Maybe seven.”
My brain fires back anyway.He’s handsome. Confident. Loved around here. You’re… you. Mum said so. Those women said so. Guys like him wake up one morning and realise they can do better.
I stop and rest my hands on my knees, partly because my lungs feel like they’re on fire, partly because that last thought hits fartoo close to home. My cheeks are burning and not just from the climb.
“This is ridiculous,” I tell the hillside. “He planned an entire date just to make me happy.”
I straighten and walk again, pushing my legs up the slope even though they complain bitterly. The village shrinks behind me, the rooftops dipping into soft greens and stone greys. The air tastes cleaner up here. It helps. A little.
Right. Pros list. He listens. Properly listens. He looks at me like I’m something worth looking at. He remembers details. He notices things without making a fuss. He made me feel safe enough to kiss him back. Safe enough to let go in a way I never have with anyone. He didn’t flinch at my body. He wanted me. All of me. No hesitation.
The cons list tries to drag me back. People talk. They always have. Men change. Mum’s voice slithers through my memory, telling me that men like Alex don’t marry women my size. That I should be grateful for scraps. That people like me shouldn’t reach too high because the fall hurts more.
I stop again and shut my eyes. The breeze brushes over my face, cool and steady, and I let myself breathe.
“No,” I say quietly, surprising myself. “Not this time.”
I start walking again, slower but steadier. My boots scuff over the uneven ground, and the sky stretches wide above me. I’mstill tired. Still conflicted. And still carrying all the things people have drilled into me for years. But something inside me is pushing back. Not loud, not confident, but present. Growing.
Alex makes me feel seen. Properly seen. And I’m not ready to throw that away because two bored women in a bakery needed entertainment.
It takes a moment for the unease to register. I slow down, turn a small circle, and feel my stomach drop through the floor. I’m much higher than I meant to be. The little overlook should be somewhere behind me, but nothing looks familiar. I can’t see the path. At all.
“Brilliant,” I mutter, a cold ripple sliding down my spine.
I look uphill. The ridge ahead is half hidden behind dark clouds rolling in quicker than seems reasonable. The wind pushes at my clothes, nudging me sideways, and for the first time today I feel properly unsettled.
