Wednesday browsed the clothes rail half-heartedly, not really looking for anything. Her mind was elsewhere, caught up in the heaviness of her last therapy session. The one that had made her re-evaluate her entire life and way of thinking. She'd spent the past few days since it replaying all the moments she could remember where she'd closed herself off, pushing people away because of her own fears. It had happened so many times instinctively, like a common reflex, that she wondered how different things might have been for her if she'd just allowed people in a bit more. Allowed herself to be vulnerable. To be loved.

"Have you found anything yet?" Gemma asked behind her, dragging her from her daydream.

She looked round to where she stood, shaking her head.

"Not really, no."

"You usually you have an eye for finding good vintage pieces. I thought you'd have an entire armful by now."

Wednesday smiled, but it didn't meet her eyes. "Yeah, I know. I think I'm just a bit distracted today."

Gemma paused her own searching, her brows pinching together. "What's wrong?"

Wednesday sighed, looking down. "I've just...ever since my last therapy session, I feel like everything I thought I knew about myself is not actually real. I don't know, it's hard to describe."

"I understand what you're saying," Gemma nodded, looking back to the rail as she continued to talk. "Starting therapy made me realise a lot of how I acted was because of negative things. And once I became aware of that, it felt like I didn't know what to do anymore."

Had everyone other than Wednesday had therapy at this point? Was this what being an adult entailed? If so, it was embarrassingly sombre. Her 19-year-old self would be ashamed of the boring, emotional woman she'd recently become.

"That's exactly it," Wednesday replied, thankful that she didn't sound crazy. "It's like now that I know these new things about myself, I'm hyper aware of how I act. And I don't want to keep acting in the same way as I've always done, because then it would make me feel like it's a step backwards."

Gemma smiled in a manner that told Wednesday she completely understood and had been exactly where she was right now and had the t-shirt to prove it.

"It's a long process. But it all gets easier with each session."

"So everyone says," Wednesday said, rubbing her face.

Gemma laughed, looking over to her. "I know, it probably sounds cliché at this point. But it's true."

"I hope so. I just want to feel like me again," Wednesday replied, forcing a small smile.

She looked back to the rails, flicking through until she landed on a vintage nascar bomber jacket. Eyeing it with growing admiration, she held it up for Gemma's opinion. With a raised eye, she smiled.

"Looks like you're already starting to get back to feeling like yourself," she replied.

Wednesday looked back to the jacket, her lip caught between her teeth. And with a swift decision, she took it over to the till and paid.

They spent the rest of the afternoon walking from shop to shop, both needing some retail therapy to liven their spirits. By the time she'd returned home, both hands full of shopping bags, Wednesday felt temporarily cleared of all her worries.

As she placed the bags on her bed, she got an urge. An urge for something she rarely did. She wanted a bath.

Walking into her bathroom, she began to run the hot water tap, squeezing some bubble bath and essential oils into the water. She didn't know why her body craved one at that moment, but it did. And who was she to argue. Going downstairs, she poured herself out a large glass of wine and grabbed a box of chocolates that she'd received as a Christmas present. No better time than the present to start wining and dining herself.

20 minutes later, when the bath was full and the bubbles sat atop the water invitingly, Wednesday submerged herself in. Cursing under her breath at the heat, she quickly adjusted and laid back down in the water, the only sound being that of the bubbles popping.

She grabbed her phone from the stand next to her, placing it on silent and then scrolling through her Spotify playlists. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to find the right vibe, deciding against her usuals. Noticing a familiar album crop up, she raised her eyebrows, her finger hovering over the play button. And then, in one fast movement, she pressed it.

The familiar symbols started playing, the build-up rising. And then, a loud 'HEY'.

She smiled at her choice. Golden always made her feel happy, regardless of her mood. It was like it provoked joy within her, making her body react to it beyond her mind's control. Laying back down, she grabbed the glass of wine and took a long sip, indulging in the moment.

Despite having heard the album a million times, she'd still not sat down and listened to it like this. Informally, without a reason to listen other than because she enjoyed it. Harry's voice flowed through the air, settling her instantly.

She thought about him. About his voice, his face, his smile. Pictures of him ran through her mind as the album shuffled between songs, a smile coming up onto her lips involuntarily.

She wondered what he was doing now. He'd been in rehearsals for the past few days, calling her every day to check how she was. But she wondered what he was doing in that moment. Was he laughing with the others, in that way that made his dimples appear and his eyes shine? Or were his brows creased together, the guitar pick between his teeth as he adjusted the tuning on the strings. Maybe he was scrolling through his phone, absentmindedly in a world of his own. Maybe he was thinking about her, wondering what she was doing too.

After more sips of the wine, as well as eating a few of the chocolates, Wednesday grabbed her razor and started to shave her legs, humming along to Lights Up.

"Shine, step into the light, shine, so bright sometimes," she sang along, twisting her body to reach the hard-to-get ankle area. "I'M NOT EVER GOING BACK!"

Her voice was loud, the wine letting her inhibitions fly. Looking to her legs, she nodded in appreciation at her handy work. Smooth as a dolphin.

As she washed herself, a female voice echoed around the room, the beginning of Cherry playing.

"Shut up," she mumbled to it, only singing along again when Harry's voice filled the air.

After five more minutes of singing, she unplugged the bath and stood up. Wrapping the towel around her body, her brows furrowed when she noticed the abundance of texts from Harry.

With a hesitant grasp, she pulled the bathroom door open. Peeking her head out, she looked down the hallway, not seeing any sign of him.

"Hello?" she yelled, hearing nothing back. "Harry?"

Nothing again.

She sighed, pulling her towel tight around herself, pieces of her hair falling onto her face. Walking along the hallway, she rounded the top of the stairs. Yelping out loud, her towel almost dropped in shock as she saw Harry sat on the bottom step, smiling up at her amusedly.

"You dumbass!" she chided, careful to make sure the towel completely covered her from him. "I told you not to abuse that front door key!"

"I didn't!" he replied defensively, holding his hands up. "I texted you that I was coming round and when I knocked and you didn't answer, I heard your singing coming through the door! So, I just let myself in."

"That's classed as abusing the key," she said, before her lips curled. "Wait, you heard me singing?"

Oh no. Oh no, oh no. Out of all the albums, why did it have to be Fine Line she'd chosen? She could already tell he was amused from the way his dimples hadn't once left his face.

"Yep. Great album choice, I must say. Never heard Lights Up sang quite that powerfully before. And did I hear you right when you told Cherry to 'shut up'?"

Her cheeks went red and her mind went blank, no semblance of a rebuttal coming to her. Harry on the other hand smiled smugly, knowing he'd caught her out in a moment of vulnerability.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she shrugged, pushing the strands of hair from her face and wrapping her towel tighter. "Anyway, what are you doing here? I thought you were in rehearsals all day?"

"Finished early for the day. Thought I'd stop by," he replied, standing up and pushing his hands into his pockets.

She felt nervous, completely aware of the fact she was semi naked in front of him.

"Right, well you can go make us a cuppa, and I'll go get dressed quickly."

With a grin, Harry nodded.

"Yes, sir."

Ten minutes later, she padded down to the kitchen in her joggers and oversized hoodie, gratitude filling her as she noticed the steaming cup of tea on the side.

She picked it up, standing against the counter and looking over to where Harry sat at the kitchen island.

"So, how are rehearsals going?"

"Hectic," Harry replied, opening the pack of biscuits he'd looted from her cupboard. She leant forward, grabbing one herself. "We've pretty much got the majority of songs down, but it's just fine tuning now. Which is always so tedious."

Wednesday knew that all too well. Though she found herself craving to be back doing the job she loved more and more each day, she didn't miss the long, tiring hours that were spent in rehearsals, repeating the same songs over and over again.

"Well, at least you can relax for the rest of the evening," she said, sipping the tea. "Do you want to stay here for dinner or are you doing something else?"

He grinned, chewing the last of his biscuit. "Of course I want to stay, especially if you're cooking."

"You're in luck. I'm making pasta tonight."

Harry stood up with his mug of tea and a biscuit in the other hand. He walked towards Wednesday and she held her breath as he leant towards her. With a bend, he planted a kiss on the top of her head, walking away with a grin.

"You know me too well."

She couldn't help but smile as she watched him walk away, ignoring the butterflies that had erupted in her stomach. Following him into the living room, she planted herself down next to him, grabbing the tv remote and turning it on.

"So, when's your next therapy session?" Harry asked.

Her brows furrowed as he spoke, her eyes trained to the TV so as not to look over.

"Tomorrow morning," she replied, scrolling through the channels mindlessly.

She knew he was looking at her in that caring way he always did, trying to figure out what was going on in her head. But all she wanted to do was sit with him and watch crappy TV, not overthink for once. All week, since her session with Sade, she'd been in a state of processing. Trying to understand her own mind better after what she'd learnt. And it had left her tired to her core. Therapy was exhausting and she'd only had one full session.

"Do you feel better about going now?" Harry asked.

She clicked onto the movie channels, scanning nervously as she swallowed.

"In a way yes, but also no."

Wednesday didn't need to be looking at him to know he was looking at her with a confused expression, trying to understand what she meant.

When he remained silent, she felt compelled to explain further.

"Like, I'm glad I'm going, and I know it's only going to be better for me in the long run. It just doesn't make what we have to discuss in the sessions any easier. Opening up is...it's hard for me." She looked sideways at Harry. "You know that better than anyone."

A small smile came up onto his lips. "You're trying though. That's the important thing."

She looked at him, his face not far from hers. Her gaze travelled over his face, taking in every detail. He looked so soft, so gentle in the shadowy room.

"When did you become so wise?" she observed with a small smile.

The corners of his lips tugged up and he snuggled down into the sofa further, shyly shrugging.

"I've always been wise. You just never listen."

Her jaw dropped open in mock hurt. "Rude. I always listen to you."

"Sure you do," he replied with a grin, rolling his eyes.

Wednesday jabbed his side jokingly, pointing the remote over to him.

"Shut up and choose something to watch."

He looked down to the remote and back to her, breathing out a laugh before taking it from her hand. They both settled down into the sofa, shoulder to shoulder, content in their silence as they watched the tacky romcom he chose.

The next day, Wednesday sat down on the sofa in Sade's room, ready for her second proper therapy appointment. Though she was much calmer than she had been previously, the grip of anxiety was still coursing through her. Truthfully, she wasn't sure if it would ever go away. The process of therapy was daunting and scary.

"How are you doing since our last session?" Sade asked, grabbing her pen and notepad.

"Oh, I'm uh—I'm coping, I guess."

"Still trying to come to terms with what we covered?" she asked further.

Wednesday wondered how she did that. How she was able to know what she was feeling and thinking before she'd even said anything.

"Yeah. It's a hard thing to learn about yourself."

"These first sessions are always the hardest. But they're necessary for us to start finding ways in which to help you."

Wednesday sat up straighter, nodding her understanding.

"So, let's jump back to where we were last week. You mentioned that your father passed away over a year ago and the effect it has had on you since. What was your relationship with him like?" Sade asked, her hands clasped together.

Wednesday smiled just thinking about him.

"He was amazing. The best dad I could have ever asked for. I know loads of people say that about their dads, but it's true. He was like a dad and a best friend rolled into one. Before—before he got sick, we would always go to football matches together. Liverpool matches. It was like our thing that just us two did. And when I was growing up, he was always the fun, carefree parent. When my mum wasn't looking, he'd slip me some money to go and get sweets, or so that I could go hang out with my friends. I loved him a lot."

Wednesday felt the lump in her throat as she spoke about him, but it couldn't remove the nostalgic smile from her face. If there was one thing she hated more than him not being here, it was when people avoided bringing him up in conversation. Because all she wanted to do was talk about him normally without the fear of an entire room going awkwardly silent. Some people didn't realise that death didn't mean non-existence.

"It sounds like you had a very close bond," Sade smiled.

"We did." Wednesday looked out of the window. "I miss him every day. Sometimes, I'll hear a new song, or see a new film that I know he would have loved. And I get so sad, thinking about how he'll never get to experience it. Because now, he exists in the past. Now, he's just a person that was. And it makes me so—so angry. What happened to him was so unfair and if there was any one person who didn't deserve it, it was him."

Wednesday wiped the lone tear away that had escaped from her eye. She wasn't sobbing, nor was she breathless. It was just her grief, finding a silent means of escape.

"Were you there with him, whilst he was ill?"

Wednesday nodded, placing her hands under her bum so that she couldn't pick at her skin, feeling the intense need to do so.

"He was diagnosed with a terminal brain tumour around a year before. And at first, he managed it well. But then as the months passed, he got weaker. Started having seizures, having problems with his speech and eyesight. Eventually, he couldn't walk anymore and so the dining room was turned into his bedroom. In his final weeks, he was so...weak. He just wasted away before our eyes."

"It must have been extremely hard to watch someone you loved go through that. Were you there when he passed away?"

Wednesday's eyes shut as scenes of his last breath flashed through her mind, burning a path of pain. She'd never felt as emotionally and physically crippled as she had that day. Since then, she'd been unable to escape the nightmares—of watching him exhale for the last time, of hearing her mum's screams. It plagued her mind.

"Yeah," she replied quietly. "One morning, his eyes didn't open. And when the doctor came, he told us that it would be best if we said our goodbyes. A few hours later, he took his last breath with us around him."

Sade listened closely, nodding. "What effect do you think his illness and passing has had on you?"

Wednesday laughed out loud humourlessly, rubbing her nose. "What effect hasn't it had? I've developed awful health anxiety. Like, if I get a random pain in my body, my brain immediately thinks I have cancer. And I end up always googling all of my symptoms, convinced I'm going to die. I wake up in tears more often than I'd care to admit, because I have dreams about him dying all over again. When I'm walking down the street, sometimes I'll see someone who looks like him and for a split second, I pretend it is him to feel like he's still here. Sometimes, when I'm around my mum, I get..." she stopped, thinking over what she was about to say with a heavy sigh. "I get so angry and I don't know why."

"What is your relationship with your mother like?" Sade asked.

"It's good. Sometimes, she annoys me, and I annoy her, but I wouldn't say it's anything out of the ordinary for a mother daughter relationship. It's just...now that it's just the two of us, everything feels wrong. Like my life isn't really my life anymore? And I guess when I'm with my mum, I feel that even more, so it just makes me angry."

"What do you mean when you say your life doesn't feel like your life anymore Wednesday?"

She bit the inside of her cheek, pondering how to answer. "When dad died, something felt missing. Like in one minute, this entire chunk of my life and everything I knew just disappeared. And ever since then, it feels like I've been trying to navigate my life with this massive hole inside of me that never seems to be filled. I don't really like change at the best of times but...it all just happened so quickly, and it felt like I just had to get on with it? I don't know, maybe that doesn't make sense."

"That makes perfect sense Wednesday. Losing someone we love is a major life change and as a result, it forces our lives to change too. It's completely normal that you would feel like that."

Wednesday nodded, feeling lighter somehow. She felt validated. Heard.

"What was your childhood like?" Sade asked, jotting down something in her notepad.

Wednesday shrugged as she thought it over.

"It was good. I'm an only child, so I guess you could say I was a bit spoilt. But it was good. My parents made sure I never went without and were always present in everything I did."

"And what was school like for you?"

"It was, uh," Wednesday began, laughing nervously. "It was alright. I mean, I didn't love it obviously, because it was school. I actually moved from Yorkshire to Manchester when I was around 10, so for a little while I felt like an outsider. But I wouldn't say it was a big issue."

"Did you manage to make friends, after moving?"