You and Aoife had an argument that gnawed at your insides, leaving you restless and tormented. She’s the brightest light in your life, a sanctuary from the shadows of your home life, where an alcoholic father looms like a storm cloud, a mother drifts through existence like a haunting specter, and the weight of raising your younger siblings falls heavily on you and your brother, Joey.

The argument now seems so trivial, a fleeting moment of frustration that you can’t help but regret. She only wanted to lend a hand with your little brothers and sister, her heart always set on helping you. But you found yourself unable to accept her kindness, afraid that she might glimpse the harsh reality of your home life and see you for the chaotic mess you feel you truly are.

It’s late at night, and the Irish rain taps rhythmically against your bedroom window, a familiar lullaby. You lie there, gazing at the ceiling, trying to push aside the dull ache in your ribs from your da’s boot, when suddenly, your battered phone vibrates to life, breaking the stillness of the night.

Aoife, the radiant angel who illuminates your darkest hell, is calling you.