Silence fell, and it kept falling. Ishaana felt her heart jump into her throat when she heard the two words that she had never guessed would leave Priya's mouth, two words that had an instant resonance with Bishop. He gripped the phone in his hand, devastation riddling his features as he read the story that confirmed what Priya had just told him. Ishaana leant against him, her heart pounding as she read over his elbow.

Casey Watts, 24, was found dead in his Birmingham hotel room at 6:20pm last night, of a suspected overdose. Police have called his death unsuspicious. His family have been notified. Watts formed one half of the indie-pop band Two Degrees, which split last year after four years together. After opening for boyband sensation, South Season, Two Degrees secured a series of gigs around the country and in the United States but in May of last year, they announced their break-up on Twitter. Watts was pursuing a solo career after the band's dissolution, though he was blighted by drug and alcohol addictions. His death will come as a shock to many fans.

­Above the article was a photo of Casey; beside that, a snapshot of him and Bishop on stage together. In the middle, a picture of the hotel where he had been found dead. Ishaana instantly recognised it, the hotel where they had shared their first night together after the concert, and her stomach churned. Her hand gripped Bishop's skin, her fingers tightening around his forearm.

"I'm so sorry," Priya said, her voice quiet and shaking. She brushed away a tear that leaked out of the corner of her eye, spilling over when there was only so much that she could hold back her emotions. She was one of those fans, waiting on a solo album when she had known nothing of the truth behind the band's split. Bishop had always assured her that it was a mutual decision, best for the both of them, and she had spent a year begging him to go back to music.

"Who's died?" Sunita asked, confusion setting into her features, and Saffiya took it upon herself to answer when nobody else seemed to be in a position to respond.

"Casey," she said softly, leaning across the table to her mother. "He was Bishop's bandmate, last year."

Sunita's pupils dilated, her hand going to her mouth. "Oh my goodness," she said and when she stood to do what she could to console, it was Priya who folded into her arms, stifling a sob against her aunt's chest. Ishaana was rooted to the spot, gripping Bishop as she waited for him to react. The news had hit her like a punch, Priya's blunt words coming as a shock, but as that wore away, she was left with nothing but the bitter taste of the anger she had harbored towards Casey, even after so many months apart. Rage coated her tongue, reigniting the hatred towards him that had inflamed each time last year had haunted her, pushing her away from Bishop.

"Bishop," she murmured, breaking the stony wall that had gone up around him as he tried to process what he had heard. She slipped her hand into his, lacing their fingers together, and she didn't know what to say as she gazed at him, her mouth hanging open. Sorry was the word, she thought, but she couldn't bring herself to say that when it was impossible to ignore the pain that Casey had inflicted on her, the lasting damage his words had had.

"I need to get out," Bishop murmured. He handed Priya's phone back to her, dragging his hands down his face as he let out an agonised groan. "I need to go." When he took Ishaana's hand, gripping her fingers so tightly that it almost hurt, she looked over her shoulder at her aunt, who nodded over Priya's head, rubbing her crying niece's back.

Bishop pulled Ishaana outside, only letting go of her hand to run his hands through his hair. He walked fast, striding away from the house towards the thicket of woodland at the back, the shortcut that led to the canal, and she jogged to catch up with him.

"Hey," she called after him, tripping over a twine of brambles that he had torn through. "Bishop, stop."

"God fucking damn it!" he cried out and he came to a halt when he reached a tree, swinging out to thump it with the side of his fist. Ishaana raced to his side, grabbing his hand before her could punch the trunk again and break his knuckles. He leant against it, his other hand covering his eyes, and she saw the shimmer of tears wetting his cheeks. "What the fuck?"

She held his hand, trying to soothe him with her presence when she couldn't use the words that would be lies. She wasn't sorry. She wouldn't miss Casey. Guilt coursed through her like a tide when she felt a flicker of something she knew she shouldn't feel: relief. Letting out a sigh as she tried to untangle the mess in her head, she said, "He was troubled, Bishop. He always was."

Bishop dropped his hand from his face. "He's dead," his said, his voice a painful constriction. "I can't believe he's dead. Jesus, Ishy. What the fuck?"

She slipped her arms around his waist, pulling him in for a hug that he struggled to reciprocate when his mind was a mess, and she only held on for a few seconds before she let him go. "I don't know what to say," she murmured, rubbing the heel of her palm over her chest. "I don't think I can grieve for someone who hurt me so much."

"He's dead," Bishop said again, his voice trailing off. "We were friends. We were friends before."

Ishaana pursed her lips, her eyes cast down to the woodland floor beneath the feet. "Before me."

Bishop looked up, frowning as he met her eye, and his voice gained a snippet of an edge. "Don't be like that."

"Like what?" she asked. "I can't just forget what happened, Bishop. I can't just ignore the shit he did. I can't forgive him."

Bishop's frown deepened, incredulous despair on his face as he tilted his head to the side, staring at Ishaana. "He's dead, Ishy," he said, as though that absolved him of everything he'd done. "It's been a year. And now he's fucking dead." He sank against the tree again, clasping his hand over his eyes again. "He's gone," he muttered. "You need to let it go."

Ishaana prickled at that, straightening her back and hardening her features. "I'm not saying I'm glad he's dead," she said, the fact still not having really sunk in, "but I can't be sad, Bishop. You have to understand that. I can't mourn someone I hate. He fucked us both over. That doesn't get any less true just because he's dead. He was a bad person."

"For God's sake, Ishaana, you need to give it a rest!" he cried out, and he stared at her, his eyes boring into her as though he couldn't believe what he was hearing, trying to measure up what she was saying with what had happened. Everything was now overshadowed by the death that neither of them had expected. "He's gone," he said, staring at her before he shook his head and looked away.

"He brought this on himself, Bishop," she said, trying to measure out her words even though she could feel her irrationality rising, the same one that always took over before they dissolved into an argument. "He was a drug addict; he died of an overdose. It's his own fault."

"Are you saying he deserved to die?"

"No! But he brought it on himself. He fucked up again and again and again, and it cost him. It cost him his band and his future and now it has cost him his life, and I can't be sad for someone who screwed up every chance they had and hurt every friend they had. I just can't. You must get that, Bishop." She reached out to take his hand again but he pulled it away, digging it into the pocket of his jeans, and when he met her gaze, she was struck by the pain in his eyes.

"I don't," he said, shaking his head. "I don't get it. Ishy, you're stuck in this toxic place from last year and I keep trying to get you out of there but you keep going back. You need to let go of the past. Yes, he hurt you. Yes, he hurt me. We both got hurt. But that was a year ago. Now he's dead and that hurts me too. He was my friend, before any of this happened. Before we had a band, before we had gigs." He shook his head, tears welling in his eyes as he tried to hold onto the shreds of his composure, though his shoulders sagged and the corners of his mouth succumbed to gravity.

Ishaana didn't know what to say, hugging herself as she listened to him, standing as still and as small as she could.

"The past is in the past," he continued. "I've moved on, and I'm trying to help you move on too, I really am doing my best, but if you keep going back to that place where you are so angry then I don't know how we move forward. You're dwelling on the time when you were so unhappy and there is only so much I can help before it doesn't work. I don't know how we move past this. I don't know if we can."

Swallowing hard, the words translated themselves as she listened, his true thoughts speaking volumes behind the syllables that disguised them. "This isn't about Casey anymore," she said, a murmured fact rather than a question. Bishop shook his head, distraught eyes on her. He brushed his cheeks dry, his shoulderblades resting against the trunk of the tree.

"No," he said, his voice quiet. "It's about us."

"Casey would just love that," she said. "Even when he's dead, he finds a way to fuck us up. He has to have the last word."

"What the fuck?" Bishop cried out, throwing his arms out in despair. "How can you be so insensitive, Ishy? He died, he made a mistake and he died and you're turning it on yourself. That's not his doing, that's yours." A cry of frustration escaped him and he pushed away from the tree. "He's had nothing to do with you for a year. I know he hurt you, but this isn't about you right now. He was my friend, and he's dead. If you can't understand why I'm upset, then . . . I don't even know, Ishaana." He shook his head, turning his cheek as he blinked hard and tried to swallow his emotions.

"I don't know either," she said, her nails digging into her elbows.

"I don't know how long I can take this," he said quietly, scratching the back of his neck. "I need some time. I can't take this. I need a break."

"Are you breaking up with me?" she asked, though she struggled to count the number of times she had thrown those same words at him. But now, hearing them from his lips, she was dealt just a fraction of the pain she had inflicted on him every time she had asked for some time apart.

"I need a break," he said again. "Casey wasn't the best person and he made mistakes, but I never wanted him dead. I need you to decide what matters more: dwelling on the past with him, or having a future with me." Shaking his head to himself, he said, "You can't have both. It's not fair on me, Ishy. I just can't take it."

He began to walk away and Ishaana started after him, her mind swimming as she tried to comprehend what he was saying. Part of her brain screamed at her to apologise, to take back everything she had said, but a stronger part overrode her, begging her not to back down when Casey had made her life miserable. There were times when she had wished him dead, when she had prayed that she would wake up one day without the fear that he would try to find her again.

Now he wouldn't. He was dead. He had overdone it, once again. His addictions always came back to hurt him: his reliance on alcohol had thrown him into rehab; his desperation for sex had driven a wedge into his band; his dependence on drugs had stolen his last breath. Ishaana still couldn't believe it. She knew it would take a while before the news sunk in.

"Where're you going?" she asked as she followed Bishop out of the woods. He was heading in the other direction, towards the canal and away from her house, and she tried to reach out for his hand but he moved too fast. "Bishop, wait, where're you going?"

"I need some time," he said. "Give me some time. I've given you all of mine."

The words stung like a hundred nettles pricking her skin as she she slowed, watching him walk away, and a lump grew in her throat. He had never wanted time before. He had never pulled away from her, cutting himself off the way she had before, but she felt him loosening the ties that bound them together with every step he took.

It was only when she couldn't see him anymore that her shoulders sagged and she turned around, her eyes burning and her throat aching. Stumbling back through the woods, she snagged her top on the brambles that scratched her legs. Pinpricks of blood dotted the grazes but she ignored the pain of each tear in her skin, fighting her way down the overgrown path that led to the back of her house. Her chest was on fire, her stomach twisting and turning as it knotted itself a hundred times over and she felt as though she would pass out when her throat constricted, gasping for breath past the lump that had taken over her airway.

Sunita was standing in the hallway when she pushed through the door, meeting her eye with sorrow in her own. "Ishaana," she said, her voice drenched in sympathy and second-hand pain. Ishaana shut the door behind herself, a sob bubbling up after all the months for which she hadn't cried. She covered her eyes but her shaking shoulders gave her away, sniffing hard when her nose began to run, and Sunita pulled her into a tight hug. She had become even more of a mother to her two nieces over the past year, the four women bonding with each minute that Ishaana had stayed at home.

Ishaana sniffed as she cried against her aunt's shoulder, holding the woman as tightly as she could, hunched over to hug her. Once she started to cry, it was impossible to stop the flood that escaped her. Every pounding regret washed out her eyes as she wept, soaking Sunita's shoulder as she gripped the petite woman who rubbed her back, shushing her the way only a mother could. Behind her, Priya crept out of the kitchen with red eyes, her face crumpling to see her sister in pain.

"Ishy," she said, her voice that of a mouse. "Where's Bishop?"

Ishaana lifted her head and dried her eyes with her fingers, wiping her nose on the back of her hand. Easing away from her aunt, she looked over Sunita's shoulder at her sister and she couldn't bring herself to lie.

"He had to take a break," she said, the words bringing fresh tears to her eyes that she squeezed shut, pressing her fingertips to her eyelids until she saw stars.

"What? From today or from you?" Priya asked, a hint of panic in her voice that Ishaana couldn't see as she swam in the blurry lights that took over when she obscured her vision.

"From me," she said, another sob choking out of her, and her sister's arms were around her in a flash, squeezing her so tightly that she could hardly breathe.

"Why?" Priya asked, and it took a moment for Ishaana to compose herself well enough to answer.

"Because I'm a fuck up," she said. To her side, Sunita said nothing of her language, instead reaching out to squeeze her shoulder. Ishaana gripped Priya in an embrace that she didn't want to let go of, holding onto her sister who was the only stability she'd ever had in her life. Her friends had changed; her home had changed; her family had changed. But for fourteen years, Priya had been the same little sister she had always been, and Ishaana couldn't bring herself to let go.

Wednesday passed impossibly slowly once Bishop had left, and Ishaana couldn't bear the thought of leaving the house when she felt as low as she had been in a long time. Instead, while Sunita and Saffiya had headed out for a drink, Priya had stayed home with her sister and read out every fact she could find about Casey's death. It was still a raw wound, less than twenty-four hours since his body had been found, and Ishaana had a hard time believing it was real. But it was. His sister had issued a statement, mourning the loss of her big brother. She was the same age as Ishaana, recently twenty-one. They'd even gone to the same university, studying alongside each other in different departments. She couldn't help but wonder how the poor girl would feel if she knew what had happened last year, if she would think so highly of the brother she had praised.

Her phone didn't make a noise all day. There was no call from Bishop, no text, no message whatsoever. When she eventually fell asleep at two o'clock in the morning, it was in silence, and it was alone.

Thursday and Friday passed in the same fashion, dragging themselves by as Ishaana didn't know what to do with herself. Her head was a mess, her nerves shot, and each time she picked up her phone to call Bishop, to send him a text, her mind went blank and she didn't know what to say. There were too many things to say, too many things that made sense now that she was on the other side. It hurt.

On Saturday, when her phone woke her up buzzing at eleven o'clock in the morning, she lunged for it in the vain hopes that she would see Bishop's name on the screen, that he wanted to tell her he had taken his break and cleared his head and he was ready to talk again. But it wasn't. Instead, the screen was filled with Melody's grinning face, the mobile chirping as it rang. Ishaana dropped onto her back and answered it.

"Hi," she said, no enthusiasm in her voice at all. Melody laughed.

"Woah, who died?" she asked, and Ishaana couldn't bring herself to even answer. "Holy shit, Ishy, has someone actually died? Where are you?"

"Home," she said. "Are you back?"

Immediately after graduating a couple of days before Ishaana, Melody and her mother had jetsetted off to Prague for a few nights, leaving their house to Pearl and Oscar. For five days, she had been out of contact, her phone not working in the Czech Republic, and she rarely logged into Facebook.

"Yeah, yeah, we got back last night. Ishy, what's going on? You're scaring me."

"Can I come over?" Ishaana asked. She hadn't left the house in three days, not since she and Bishop had headed to the woods and she had returned alone, but she ached to see her best friend, who always seemed to know what to say.

"Of course, Ish, always. Are you ok?"

"I'll see you in ten," Ishaana said, letting out a sigh of utter exhaustion, her body crushed beneath the weight of what she had said, and everything she hadn't said. All Bishop had needed was someone to lean on when he grieved. That person should have been her, but she had failed in that role and now she was feeling it.

Melody's house was six minutes away by car. Ishaana had passed her driving test at last, five months ago, and Sunita had insured her on her car. It wasn't much, a bit of an old banger that often wasn't around when Sunita had to work, but it did what Ishaana needed it to do and once she had pulled on yesterday's clothes, she dragged herself downstairs. Sunita was in the garden, the radio trickling through the open back door as she hummed along and water her plants, floating around the pretty garden that she nurtured.

"Ishaana!" she said with a smile that rose beneath the brim of her sunhat, tipping it back to look at her niece. "How're you feeling, darling?"

"I'm ok," Ishaana said, a lie and a half and they both knew it, but Sunita didn't push it. "Can I take the car to go to Mel's?"

"Of course," Sunita said, glad to see her getting out of the house. "The keys are by the door. Have a lovely time, darling."

"Thanks." Ishaana sighed and gave her aunt as much of a smile as she could muster, ducking back into the cool house and grabbing the keys on her way out the other side. It was a nice day, the perfect temperature with a balmy breeze that stopped the sun's rays from working up too much of a sweat, and Ishaana wished she could enjoy it but that was difficult when she felt like her brain was about to explode.

The drive was easy, the roads surprisingly clear for a summer Saturday, and she made it to Melody's house within nine minutes of ringing. She was outside already, sitting on the steps with the door open behind her, and she sprang to her feet when she recognised Ishaana's car, racing over to her.

"What happened, Ishy?" she asked, her eyes as wild as her hair. "What's going on?"

"Casey's dead," Ishaana said, the words falling out like rocks that hit the pavement. Melody gasp, clapping her hand over her mouth, and Ishaana felt her eyes watering again. Not for losing Casey, but for letting that lose her Bishop.

"Holy shit. What the fuck? What happened?" She dragged Ishaana into the house, pulling her towards the kitchen.

"He overdosed on Tuesday night. It was an accident, apparently. He didn't leave a note." She gripped her elbows, holding herself as small as possible.

"Wow," Melody said, her eyes wide. "That's crazy. But why're you so upset? You hate him. Hated him, I suppose."

"Because I fucked up with Bishop," she said, her voice dropped low and quiet as she admitted what she hated to admit. She was wrong. She had made a mistake. "He's taking a break. He left on Wednesday. Jesus, Mel, I've fucked everything up."

Melody had already put the kettle on, the water coming to the boil before she immediately poured two cups of tea and nodded at the French doors, signalling for Ishaana to follow her outside. "Tell me what happened. Come on."

Sitting beneath the shade of a beech tree at the end of the garden, Ishaana cradled her tea and recited what had happened on Wednesday morning, after Priya had broken the news that Casey had died. She held in her tears as she recalled what she had said to Bishop and what he had said to her, only crying when she realised how much it hurt to be left. She had left him, time and time again, and he had always been there for her. The one time that he had turned her back on her, she felt as though her world was imploding.

"I've ruined it," she murmured as she came to the end of her recital, blinking hard as she picked at the grass. "I didn't support him and I brushed off Casey's death just because I hate him and I forgot how to just say sorry because I'm a selfish fucking cunt. And now Bishop hates me, and he's the only person I've ever loved and I pushed him away."

Melody said nothing, pulling her into a hug once she had set the two mugs down elsewhere, away from the spillage zone. She wrapped her arms around Ishaana, holding her close for several long seconds. "I'm so sorry, Ishy," she said, rubbing her shoulder.

"I hate myself so much right now, and I can't help blaming Casey. Even when he's dead he's tearing us apart."

Melody frowned. "Um, no he's not," she said. "You know I fucking hated him, and I totally agree that you don't have to forgive him just because he's dead, but I don't see how this is his fault. Can I be honest with you?"

Ishaana nodded, knowing that Melody's honesty often stung but it couldn't be refuted.

"This is your problem," she said. "Not Casey's. Just because his death was a catalyst for you two to talk about him doesn't mean it's his fault. Like Bishop said, right, you've had nothing to do with each other for a year. Any problems that are still they're, they're yours. Not his." She took her tea, sipping it slowly. "I'm not sticking up for the guy. I think he was a piece of shit. But you're the one who's still hung up on what he did to you, and I agree with Bishop."

"Which bit?" she asked. Melody pursed her lips.

"Honestly? Most of it. But especially the bit about you two," she said. "It's not fair on him. You're focusing on someone who treated you like shit, someone who treated you both like shit, and every time you have one of your freak outs, it's about him. And if you can't pull yourself together, then you shouldn't be with Bishop because that is unfair to make him stand by while you keep changing your mind." Melody held her ground as she spoke, throwing unfiltered honesty at her best friend, and Ishaana suffered each and every blow. She said nothing, letting the words sink in, as much as it hurt to do so.

"I don't want to hurt you," Melody said, "but I love you so fucking much, and you're hurting yourself. And if I have to hurt you a little bit to stop you from hurting yourself a whole lot more, then I will." She paused, gazing at Ishaana, and she curled her fingers around her best friend's hand. "You love him."

"I love him."

"So stop messing him around," she said. "Tell him you're sorry. Tell him he can take all the time he needs, because he sure as hell has given you a lot of time when you've needed it, and tell him that you're here for him. Because that's all he needs, Ishy. You don't always have to agree with each other, and you don't have to pretend to be sad, but you have to support your boyfriend when he's upset because he does everything for you. He is so fucking good to you, Ishy. And I believe that you guys are a wonderful couple, but not if you take and you don't give."

Ishaana brushed away the tears that rolled down her cheeks, hating herself for needing Melody to tell her what she should have known. Melody was always right, and this was no exception. Dring her cheeks, she looked down at the grass. "I'm so sorry," she said, her voice quiet. Melody shifted closer, pulling her into a hug. Her harsh words came from a place of love, reminding Ishaana of that with her hug.

"It's not me you need to tell."

She nodded. "I know," she said. "I will. And Mel?"

"Mmm?"

"You need to delete that video."

It took hours for Ishaana to bring herself to dial Bishop's number, her finger hovering over the button before she lost confidence every single time, cursing herself for her indecisiveness. Each time that she told herself to just do it, she flaked out. It was eleven o'clock at night, still not having heard a word from him since Wednesday morning, before she took her phone out again. Supper with her family had been an understated affair, her mind too busy with everything she needed to say to be able to focus on food. She hadn't been very hungry the past few days, her appetite replaced with guilt and regret that tangled together in an awful concoction.

But as she lay in bed on Saturday night, wide awake and staring at the ceiling, she rolled onto her side and pressed the green button, holding the phone to her ear. With each ring, each second that Bishop didn't pick up, the sickening anger at herself only grew, mounting up until she wanted to throw the phone at the wall and go back in time, to just a few days ago. She wanted to go back and do it again, to prove that she could.

But she couldn't. All she could do was to ring him and hope that he would pick up. The rings continued for what felt like forever, until eventually, his answerphone message chipped in.

Hi, it's Bishop. Leave a message and I'll get back to you.

The tone sounded. Ishaana opened her mouth to say everything she had said to Melody, all of the things she wished she could say to him, to show him how much she cared. Bishop had transformed the last year of her life, forcing her to step outside her comfort zone when he had asked her to be her girlfriend, and when she had said yes several days later. He had brought out the light in her that had been hidden in the depths of night, standing opposite her like a mirror to show her how she could shine. And she hadn't done the same for him.

"I ..." She trailed off, kicking herself for losing every train of thought she'd had. Seconds passed. "I'm sorry," she said at last, the words coming out pathetically, her voice weak. She was sorry for everything she had put him through; she was sorry for not being there when he needed her; she was sorry for not valuing his feelings. She was sorry for every time she had left; she was sorry for his grief; she was sorry for forgetting how to show her love. But she didn't say any of that. All she said was I'm sorry, ending the message with the only two words that could sum up a fraction of what she felt.

It was hard to sleep. It had been hard for days, but it was even harder as Ishaana wished Bishop would call her back, that he would say anything at all. Tossing and turning for hours, she had eventually turned off her phone and thrown it into her bag across the room. She would never drop off knowing that it could ring any moment. It had taken another thirty minutes after that for sleep to overwhelm her, plummeting into yet another nightmare.

At half past eight on Sunday amorning, she awoke with a breathless start, her lungs heaving after a sour dream. They had plagued her for the past few nights, her tortured mind coming up with new ways to hurt her as she slept, and it took several moments for her breathing to return to normal once she realised that it had been a dream, that everything was ok. Except it wasn't. Bishop wasn't beside her, where she had grown used to finding him in the morning.

Pushing away the sorrow that dragged her down, Ishaana felt around for her bag and pulled it across the floor, taking out her phone and holding down the power button to turn it on. It took forever for the screen to light up, coming back to life. Even longer passed before her signal returned, her mobile connecting itself to the wifi, and she closed her eyes to wait until she felt it buzz in her hand.

Two notifications popped up in the middle of the screen and her heart jumped into her throat, nausea churning her stomach.

Missed Call from Bishop

One New Voicemail

She took a deep breath to calm herself as she clicked on the voicemail message, waiting as the machine read out the number she recognised as her boyfriend's, the number that had finally made it into her phone months after they had first met.

For a couple of seconds, the message was silent before she heard a sigh. Bishop. Of course it was. She knew that sigh, the one she had heard so many times before. He sighed like that when he didn't know what else to say, when he had run out of words, and hearing it crushed her as though gravity had become a push rather than a pull, forcing her down. A couple more seconds passed before he spoke, the weight of the world in his distant tone, crackling along the line.

"Me too."

+ - + - +

one night only is over

i have come on such a rollercoaster of a journey with this book, and i can safely say that it is the story i am now proudest of. from the characters, to the plot, to the themes i have dealt with, this story has been a joy to write and i have loved to explore ishaana's character, as well as getting to know pearl / melody / priya before they each have their own stories. as you know, this book was originally 13 chapters, but i don't know how i ever thought that would suffice.

fun fact: one night only is actually the same length as 21NS. that just goes to show how much longer my chapters are now!

some of you may not be satisfied with this ending. i get that. but this sums up ishaana's character far better than any lovey-dovey epilogue ever could. that's just not who she is. the way her story began, and the way it continued, closure is never really going to be closure. however, i can reveal that ishaana will be a major character in "the night train" so if you want to catch a glimpse of what she is like 24 years after this epilogue, head on over there once i start writing it!

this story has been a blast. i can't thank you all enough for joining me on this journey and showering me in wonderful comments and support that i wake up to each morning after posting (if my chapter-finishing times are anything to go by, i have some sleep catching up to do!)

once again, thank you to everyone who has supported me with this book. you mean the world to me. and now time for a little promo of what i have planned for you next!

although i almost never say things for definite, i can reveal that the next two works i will be writing are:

The Night Train (Sarah Langley)
25 years post-ONO

followed by

Night Light (Allie Langley)
2 years pre-ONO

If you're not a fan of the Langley clan . . . sorry! You'll be seeing plenty more of Nick and Maddie in the coming months, with TNT focusing on their daughter, Sarah, while NL follows Nick's sister, Allie.

thank you, and goodbye