"I just wanted her to want to stay."
"I know. But she has to want that on her own. And if she doesn't…" Lily squeezed her hand. "Then it was never going to work anyway."
They sat there on the floor for a while longer, Lily holding her while Annabelle cried herself out properly this time. The ugly, messy, necessary kind of crying that left her feeling scraped raw but somehow lighter.
Eventually Lily made tea, because that's what happens in a crisis, and they moved to the sofa.
"What are you going to do?" Lily asked.
Annabelle stared into her mug. "Go to school tomorrow. Thank everyone for the fundraiser. Pretend I'm fine."
"Are you fine?"
"No." The word came out flat. Honest. "But I will be. Eventually."
She had to be. Because that's what Annabelle did. She picked herself up. She kept going. She smiled even when it hurt.
Even when everything inside her felt shattered.
AT SCHOOL THE next day, Annabelle put on her brightest smile.
It felt like wearing a mask two sizes too small, but she managed it. She had to. The children were still buzzing about the fundraiser, about Raven's performance, about how they'd saved the library. Their joy was real and uncomplicated, and Annabelle refused to let her own heartbreak dim that.
"Ms. Swift! Ms. Swift!" Lucy Bourdan ran up to her as soon as she entered the classroom. "My mum said we raised almost twenty thousand pounds! Is that true?"
"It is true." Annabelle's smile didn't waver. "You should all be very proud."
She'd barely slept. Had spent most of the night staring at her ceiling, replaying every moment with Raven like some kind of masochistic highlight reel. The kiss in the cottage. The guitar lessons. The way Raven had looked at her across the fundraiser stage, right before everything went dark and she'd saved the night.
I was always going to leave eventually.
Annabelle shook the thought away and focused on the children streaming into the classroom, each one more excited than the last.
"We saved the library, Ms. Swift!"
"My dad said you're a hero!"
"Can we go see the new books?"
The morning was a blur of thank-yous and hugs and excited chatter. Parents stopped her in the corridor to express their gratitude, most of them carefully not mentioning Raven, though a few asked if she was still in the village. Annabelle deflected those questions with practiced ease, redirecting the conversation back to the fundraiser, to the children, to anything else.
Mrs. Long, Jamie’s mum, cornered her by the staff room. "That was quite something you pulled off. However did you manage it?"
"Just lucky timing," Annabelle said brightly. "Right place, right time. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to organize the library inventory…"
"Of course, of course. But really, Annabelle, well done. The whole village is talking about it."
Yes. The whole village was talking about it. About the fundraiser. About Raven. About how their primary school teacher had somehow convinced a rockstar to play for them.
None of them knew that same rockstar had walked out of her life less than twenty-four hours ago.
The children drew pictures during art time, most of them featuring Raven with her guitar, the stage, the moment the lights came back on. Annabelle helped them add details, praised their creativity, and tried not to look too closely at the drawings in case she started crying in the middle of class.
She threw herself into logistics and planning. Made lists of which books needed cataloguing. Drafted a thank-you noteto send to every donor, every volunteer, every person who'd contributed to saving their library.
Anything to keep busy. Anything to keep her mind from drifting to the cottage next door that would soon be empty.
Nina watched her with worried eyes during lunch, hovering near her elbow as Annabelle organized the library furniture delivery schedule.
