I exhaled heavily. “Nah, you’re right though. I do feel less exposed if I don’t open my eyes. And subconsciously, I probably also feel a level of shame for living a life my parents wouldn’t approve of. Like I told you before, even when I hate them I still love them.”

“I really think you need closure. You’ve never told them how their actions affected you, how it felt to be shut out from a life that was all you’d ever known, how you had to fend for yourself, take out loans to finish uni and put yourself in massive debt. I think they need to hear it, Reya, even if they won’t apologise or admit they were wrong, they can’t hide from the truth inside themselves.”

“Yes, they can. Because their truth is the opposite of mine, and there’s never going to be anything I can do to change that.”

Trev’s expression sobered. “You’re wrong.”

I let out a sad laugh. “I appreciate you trying to help, seriously, I do. But you’ve never met my parents.”

Indecipherable thoughts flickered behind his eyes. Once again, I had no idea what he was thinking when he finally murmured, “No, you’re right. I haven’t.”

Twenty-One.

Past.

It was July 1st.

The start of one of the warmest months was always a cold time for me. Ever since I could remember, my family took a three-week holiday to Madrid around this time each year. My father would allow his staff to take care of the restaurant while we went to visit my aunt and uncle and various other relatives.

I loved it.

I loved playing on the street with my cousins.

I loved the oppressive heat and the strange, exotic plants.

I loved how cats in Spain looked just the tiniest bit different from cats in England.

But most of all, I loved being surrounded by people who loved me. Thinking back on it, the difference in my circumstances now as compared to when I was a child was like staring at a happy, smiling family portrait and then seeing pictures of the crime scene afterwards. Because some serial killer came along and hacked the happy family to death.

Yes, all things considered I was feeling pretty morbid.

The most painful thing was knowing that every member of my family was there now; my parents and sister, my brothers and their wives and kids. It was a Cabrera tradition, one that would be upheld despite the banished daughter. In fact, I was dead to them, only without the period of mourning associated with the loss of a family member.

I sat alone in my grotty little flat, counting the dirty coins and notes people had dropped in my hat while out busking yesterday, and wondered how this had become my life. I knew I was always welcome at Karla and Lee’s, but sometimes I felt like I was encroaching, like I was the odd person out.

I picked up my phone, my thumb worrying the screen as I considered sending Trev a text. He was in Manchester filming Running on Air. It’d been a few days since we talked, but like always, I knew he was busy.

In the end, I decided against a text and dialled his number instead. At least with a phone call he could either answer or not. If I texted I’d have to sit and agonise and wait for a reply.

It rang out and I thought he wasn’t going to pick up, but just when I was about to hit ‘end’ his voice filled the line.

“Reya, hey,” he answered, sounding out of breath.

“Trev,” I replied, relief filling me. It felt so good just to hear his voice. In an instant, my loneliness wasn’t half as overwhelming. “How’s everything going up there?”

Wherever he was, it sounded noisy. Someone was talking to him in the background and Trev didn’t immediately answer my question, instead putting his hand over the speaker to deal with the other person. I could hear the muffled conversation.

“I’ll be there in a sec.”

“Did you get the plan for tonight’s run?”

“Yeah, Barry gave me the gist earlier.”

“Well, we need you downstairs in five.”

“Okay, I’ll be there.”

“Hold on, did you put an order in for dinner? We’re doing burritos.”

“Yeah, I told Jo. And can you get me some coconut water?”

I let out a long, frustrated sigh, the happiness I felt hearing his voice quickly dissolving now that I was being kept on hold. Why bother answering when he didn’t plan on talking to me? I stared around my flat as I waited for him to finish. My queen-sized bed was shoved up against the window, beyond which was my dark blue sofa and TV, then my tiny corner kitchenette. I wondered where Trev was staying in Manchester. Somewhere nice, I bet. There were probably Egyptian cotton sheets and a turndown service.

Trev’s voice came back on the line. “Reyrey, it’s so good to hear your voice.”

I smiled. “I was just thinking the same thing. I miss you.”

There was some more background noise and shuffling. Then I heard a door click shut and there was quiet. “I miss you, too. Things have been mad busy.” His voice dipped low. “I wish you were here.”

“Me, too,” I said, and not for the first time wondered why he didn’t invite me to come visit him. I had a sneaking suspicion his management company didn’t want a girlfriend hanging around. They wanted Trev to appear single because it’d work more favourably with female viewers.

“How’ve you been?” Trev asked and a brick sank in my gut.

I didn’t want to depress him by telling the truth, so I simply answered, “Good. The usual.”

“You sure?”

“Mm-hmm.”

There was a long pause and it grew awkward. Why did it feel like we had so little to say to each other these days? We used to be able to sit talking all night and never run out of words.

There was a pause before I blurted, “It’s the first of July.”

Silence. He didn’t remember? It was late afternoon and he still had no clue. We had dinner together each year on this day to help me survive the hurt. But now—

“Shit,” Trev swore.

“What?”

“I just realised the date. Are you okay?”

When have I ever been okay on this date? “Not really. Today’s been rough.”

“Reya, I—”

Abruptly, there was a loud knock before a voice said, “Trev! We need you downstairs for the meeting now.”