Laying on my bed, the covers stripped back, I stared at the blank canvas that was my ceiling. I tried to clear my mind, but Matt's words whirled throughout my head and I was caught on a carousel of endless thoughts. Just when I thought the ride was about to slow down and let me off so I could finally fall asleep, they picked back up.

Zaire had dropped me home over two hours ago, and I was still wide awake. I wanted sleep to take me under, but with the buzz from the alcohol faded, I felt far too much. My body was hyper-aware of every brush from my tangled bed sheets and every minute noise from outside my window.

The wind ruffled the leaves around the garden, creating my own bedtime lullaby. My father's distant and muffled snores joined in with their own rhythmic melody.

I closed my eyes, urging slumber to follow, but the more I forced it, the more my mind and body fought against it. Letting out a slight huff of frustration, I balled my fists, tensed my legs, and released my hold a few seconds after. Nothing was working.

Matt's touch lingered on my skin and each of my movements fanned remnants of his unique scent all over me even hours later. It was torture and bliss rolled into one.

Through heavy-lidded eyes, I glanced back up to the ceiling. "Go to sleep, go to sleep, go to sleep," I mumbled to myself.

Nothing.

I curled onto my side, grabbed my phone, and clicked through my playlists in search of calming music, hoping to drown out my own consciousness.

With my music set, I focused on my breathing, counting each intake of air. My heartbeat slowed, and I tried to visualise a deserted beach with hot sand under my feet and miles of vivid blue water.

I fell slowly and all at once.

The classical instrumental track playing gradually grew louder as heavy base and drumming pushed their way through the sound until my calm was replaced with chaos.

All I saw was the bar with waves of people and strobing artificial lights as my beach disappeared. That scene was far from soothing.

Red, greens, and blues flashed against their skin, illuminating the darkness. I looked out into the room, hoping to catch someone's eye, to find someone that would make me feel better about being there alone. Only vacant faces stared back.

My pulse raced as panic set in. In this crowded place, I was all alone.

Pushing past the soulless bodies, I stepped outside and into a cloudless night. A light breeze picked up and whirled around the bare skin of my arms.

Lonely and cold, I wandered the deserted streets until the tarmac roads changed into a sea of wildflowers and moss. Trees towered overhead, their height intimidating.

I lowered my gaze to the floor and took a deep breath in.

One

Two

Three

The moon coated every inch of the waves from the forest; my surroundings brighter under the new light. White, flowing fabric caught my eye as it drifted through the trees. The urge to follow pushed my body into action, each step careless. My arm brushed against coarse bark, prompting a trickle of blood to run down my left forearm. I drew air in through my teeth from the sudden sting in my limb.

The unmistakable mass of rich brown hair stilled my movements for a second.

"Saffron!" I covered the graze on my arm with my right hand and renewed my strides. "Saffron! Wait for me."

She didn't slow her pace as she disappeared deeper into the forest.

"Please," I begged. A steady stream of tears blurred my vision. "I just want to talk to you. Why won't you talk to me?" My last sentence lodged itself in my throat as she stopped.

Her back to me, I crept forward, leaves crunching under feet. The thumping of my heart and breathing grew heavier until she was within my grasp. I stretched my fingers out to touch them to her shoulder. Red stained the unspoiled white gown when they made contact.

Saffron slowly turned her head. Instead of her lifeless features that haunted all of my previous nightmares, I was left face to face with my own crystal blue eyes staring back at me.

***

My mum woke me the next morning by wiping her fingers across my cheeks and brushing my hair away from my face. The light seeping through my curtains bounced off her blonde hair in her own golden crown.

"Hey Mum, everything okay? Did I sleep in?" I croaked, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes; the skin around them dry and almost flakey.

She nodded and continued running her fingers through my hair. "Did you have another nightmare last night? I came in to check on you." She paused. "You were sobbing. Stayed a while in case it woke you, but you were in a deep sleep."

I pushed myself up onto my elbows and glanced at my room. Last night's discarded clothes rested on my desk in a neat pile and my make-up had been put away. Good old Mum. "Yeah. I think so. But not the same. It was really weird."

"How so?"

A fog settled in my brain, and I only recalled parts of the dream. Being at the bar, lots of green and then Saffron. All my dreams revolved around Saffron in some form, but the feeling in my chest didn't seem the same. I didn't wake up panicked or frightened. The only way I could describe it was calm, and I couldn't figure out why.

"What time is it, Mum?"

"Nearly ten."

My eyes widened in shock. I hadn't slept in that long since before the accident. My nights usually were hours of broken and restless sleep. I stretched out and yawned. "Obviously needed it."

"I would have left you for longer. We thought you might want to shower and get ready. We are having Sunday lunch at the Dimous."

"Zaire didn't say anything." The scar on my forearm throbbed, and I lightly massaged the damaged skin to soothe the ache.

"He might not know. Emilia invited us yesterday and we can't pass up Joselyn's cooking. She wasn't a renowned chef for nothing." She smiled, making her way to the door. "Dad wants to leave before midday to pick up some wine. Don't dawdle."

My walk to the bathroom was done in a daze, my mind reeling on my nightmare. I couldn't remember seeing Saffron's face. Was it her lifeless stare, marred with cuts and a steady flow of blood, or was it my Saffy, beautiful and laughing while I lay dead on the floor? Either was horrifying to wake up from.

Turning the light on of my windowless ensuite, I rubbed any stickiness out of my eyelashes and turned to check the flakiness of my skin in the mirror. A crystal blue gaze greeted me and I froze as a flashback came rushing into my thoughts.

Saffron wasn't there last night. The girl in the white gown had my eyes, not hers, but I was still no closer to knowing if it meant anything.

I thought about it while I showered, got dressed, did my make-up and even during breakfast.

***

Dressed in a coral linen dress meant for summer, Zaire's grandma leaned over the island in the centre of the Dimous' kitchen. Her back to me, she flicked through the pages of a stained handwritten recipe book. A book filled with secrets from her years as a chef in London and from which she would never share with any living soul.

I crept up behind her and slipped my arms around her waist, resting my forehead on her back. She wrapped one arm behind her to return my embrace. A burst of her rose petal perfume hit as I inhaled.

"Hello, little one. Where are the others?" She closed her cookbook and placed her thin-framed glasses onto the counter.

"Looking at Dad's new car. Boys and their toys." I gave her one last squeeze and moved to the side of the island, facing her. "I missed you, Jossy"

Having lost my own grandparents when I was younger, she filled the void they left in my life after I mourned them. Zaire never minded sharing her with me, and despite the age gap, we grew close in a short amount of time.

The wrinkles on her skin were a map to her soul; each journey leaving its path and she wore them well. Her smile grand and true, like her kindness and compassion.

Joselyn brushed a strand of hair out of my face and tucked it behind my ear. "Not as much as I missed you." She kissed my temple and pulled a chopping board and knife out of a drawer. "You can help me cook today." Placing them in front of me with an onion, she washed her hands and went to work on gutting a whole fish.

After cleaning my own hands, I picked the knife and diced the onion and some garlic cloves with some guidance from Joselyn. It wasn't that I had never cooked, but I had never cooked one of her recipes. In fact, none of us had, and I didn't want to mess up what could be my one and only chance. Tears from the onion, and the overwhelming sense of honour at being asked to help, streamed down my cheeks, which hurt from the smile plastered on my face. I sniffled them back, feeling foolish from the unexpected rush of emotions.

"We are having pan-fried sea bass with a special Ghanaian sauce. My sister gave me the idea on my last visit, so you are all my guinea pigs today. I hope you brought your appetite." She glanced up midway through deboning with a pair of tweezers. "Oh child, why the tears? This isn't the moment to be sad."

"I'm not sad. Look, I am still smiling."

"Your mouth is smiling but the lack of light behind those eyes is telling me a different story. Talk to Nana Jossy." Her thin, greying brows drew together as she scrutinised me.

"Honestly, I am fine."

Her forehead furrowed, and she shook her head.

"I promise," rushing to sound convincing, the tone was higher than I had anticipated.

"Okay. I won't push." She bent down and plucked a transparent bone from the fish. "Have you contacted the hospital to ask how you can reapply for your job?" she said, her voice floating casually between us. There was no malice in her words, but a sheen of sweat covered my nape.

My fingers tightened over the handle of the knife I had hovering over a red chilli pepper. My heart pounded against my chest and the familiar sound of blood rushing to my ears swept through me.

"That's what I thought." She moved over to the sink to wash her hands, dried them on a tea towel and scrapped the ingredients I had chopped into a bowl. She squeezed lime juice over the top and mixed everything together. "You are so young but time moves fast for all of us. Trust me." She pointed to herself and waved her finger up and down.

"You will look back on these moments and wonder why you didn't do more. Oh, my sweet child. If only I could take your pain away." Jossy rested her hands on the counter and closed her eyes, her lips curling into a half-smile as she remembered her own lost loved ones. "But believe me when I say the dead do not want us to lament them. They want us to live a life full of love and hope. A life they could no longer be part of. Live in spite of what happened to Saffron. Do not just exist because of it."

She looked heavenward and her eyes glistened when she glanced back at me. I bit my trembling lip as I hung on her every word. They hadn't upset me like I expected. Quite the opposite. I took each one in and let them sink in until her message was a part of me.

"You know when my husband died, Zaire's dad was barely three. We had recently moved to London. My head was full of dreams to make it big in the city, and he was going to support me. But fate had other plans for us. I was now a widow with a child, no money to my name, no family to rely on until my sister joined me. But I did not let it stop me."

Joselyn rummaged through a brown paper bag and pulled out a bunch of plantains to peel and slice. She handed half to me and returned to her story.

"It wasn't easy. Being Black and a woman, well as you can imagine, the odds were not on my side. Most kitchens refused to hire me and the ones that did, shoved me to the back and gave me the worst jobs imaginable. But I stuck it out, fought them with my dedication and hard work. Gradually they trusted me, but never enough to make my own dishes, which was my dream. Until–"

She paused, pressed a hand to my cheek and wiped a stray tear that had escaped. I had barely been breathing while she spoke in case I missed anything, but with the break in her words, I blew out a long steady breath.

"You know the rest of the story," she softly said before moving back to her chopping board. "But it wasn't until someone took a chance on me that I managed to share my passion with others and that led me to head-of-kitchen, to owning my own restaurant." Her entire face beamed with pride and her half smile turned into a full on grin. "To this day I still believe they wouldn't have taken that chance if I didn't believe in myself. And I wouldn't have done it if I had let my grief swallow me alive."

Her untouched plantains lay before her and without notice, she pulled me into a calming embrace. Keeping my hands away from her clothes, I rested my chin on her shoulder. I hadn't noticed the twist and knots in my stomach until she held me against her and they gradually disappeared.

"Thank you."

"I have done nothing. Take what you want from my story. Your next step is up to you. We will be here when you decide what it is."

Jossy was right. Only I could make myself feel better. I could be that someone I looked to when I was overwhelmed. I needed to trust myself again, to trust I would be the friend I needed to get me through anything. If I couldn't do it for myself how could I ask another person to do it for me?

The first stage of healing wasn't breaking.

The first stage was me.

***

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