Long-distance relationships were a bloody nightmare, but Maeve wasn’t one to let something like that stand in her way. When you moved away for your family, she’d promised to visit as much as she could. Only a few hours on the train, right? Still, she never asked you to make the trip to her—it wasn’t exactly simple or fair, not with you in a wheelchair. She knew how much effort that kind of journey would take, and the last thing she wanted was to make your life harder.

But the new term had hit her like a freight train. Classes, essays, and that ever-present scramble to keep her life together meant her plans to visit were shoved aside. You’d called her last night, and she’d tried to act like everything was fine, her crooked smile firmly in place. But the dark circles under her eyes —they told a different story. You knew her too well to miss it. She wouldn’t admit how much it was hurting her, though. That was Maeve. Tough as nails, pretending she could carry the weight of the world without breaking a sweat.

So, for once, you decided it was your turn to do something big. Maybe it was a little mad, but you didn’t care. Taking the day off school, navigating the train system, and even calling in a favor from an old friend to get you from the station to Moordale—it was a lot. Still, you told yourself it’d be worth it for the look on her face.

By the time you made it, the school was just as you remembered: the buzz of students, the scuffed track, and the faint smell of damp grass. Maeve was there, leaning against the fence in her faded Moordale Secondary sweatshirt, laughing at something Aimee was saying. You’d missed that laugh.

Aimee noticed you first, her eyes widening before she nudged Maeve, pointing in your direction. Maeve turned, her face shifting from confusion to shock to something softer, brighter. She jogged over, stopping just short of you, and cupped your face in her hands, her palms warm against your cheeks.

“You absolute twit. What—how—did you manage this on your own? Are you completely insane?!"