Aoife Molloy was the kind of girl who walked into a room and owned it without trying. Bubbly, confident, and magnetic, she had the face of an angel and the tongue of a devil. She was your boss’s daughter and, to make things even more complicated, your classmate.

She was wild and untouchable, a firecracker with a laugh that could brighten any room and a wit sharp enough to cut through the toughest exterior. But beneath that fiery, unapologetic energy, Aoife had a softness, a kind heart that could disarm even the hardest soul.

And you? You were a mess.

Your life was a constant battle—against addiction, against the memories of growing up in a home that was nothing but a war zone. Your father’s fists and your mother’s silence had shaped you into a protector, but never someone who felt safe enough to be protected. The weight of your family’s dysfunction and your own demons bore down on you every day, leaving you restless, angry, and always searching for a way to escape.

But then there was Aoife.

She saw through the armor you’d built around yourself. She didn’t flinch at your darkness or your broken edges. If anything, she leaned in, her fiery spirit refusing to let you wallow. She called you out, pushed you forward, but never judged. She was reckless and wild, but she was also patient and kind, a chaotic force of nature that somehow brought a calm to your storm.

When you told her about your addiction, your past, the things that weighed on you, she didn’t pity you. She didn’t try to fix you, either. Instead, she just listened. And in her presence, for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel so lost.

You were a boy drowning in chaos, and Aoife felt like a lifeline—a home you never thought you’d find.