As obsessively as Hugo paced, Evie checked her emails. She was desperate for an answer—desperate for the opportunity to change her future trajectory—and winning the short film competition felt like the golden ticket to her dream career.

Evie sometimes felt guilty about leaving her parents’ home. It wasn’t the money—Hugo had insisted on covering the bulk of the rent, seeing as advances from publishers around the world kept flooding in—but more about what she had left behind. After the anniversary fiasco, her initial resolve to keep her parents together had weakened with each new fight, and even though she tried to visit Meg as often as possible, between uni, Hugo, the script, the podcast and working at the cinema, it wasn’t easy. But she did her best.

Evie squeezed Hugo’s hand, reminding him that she was right beside him. He had barely slept a wink last night in anticipation for tonight’s book launch and had made Evie swear that she wouldn’t leave his side, not even for a second.

‘What if I need the loo?’ Evie had joked at three in the morning.

‘Then I’ll come with you,’ Hugo had said, determined.

‘To the ladies?’

‘Yes.’

‘You wouldn’t dare! You’re a respectable author now, you can’t be seen lurking in the ladies.’

Standing by the door, Evie and Hugo greeted everyone as they arrived. Smiling, thanking them for coming, and pointing to where they could buy a signed, first edition copy. The evening was hosted at The Piggery, a new hip and happening bar located in the heart of Soho. The space was intimate and inviting, the low lighting injecting a kind of moodiness to the atmosphere.

As more guests arrived—including Ben, whose hearty laugh could be heard from across the room—Evie brimmed with pride. Still holding Hugo’s hand, she appraised the pulsing room, taking the time to run her eyes along the pockets of people laughing and chatting, most of them holding brand new copies of Henrietta’s Gift.

When Hugo had first held an actual bound copy of his book in his hands, Evie was sure he had been close to tears. In that moment, Evie watched his stress and fear of failure melt away as he allowed himself the chance to really believe that all his toiling and creative torture would soon pay off.

‘You’re doing great, Hugo,’ Evie stood on her toes to whisper as the tide of incoming guests slowed.

‘It’s really happening, hey?’ he responded, looking more relaxed.

‘Oh, it’s happening, baby!’

‘Alright, alright, enough of that you two,’ Liam said, appearing in an anxious flurry. It felt as though he had absorbed all of Hugo’s anxiety tonight, and Evie had watched him darting around the room haphazardly schmoozing only with the most esteemed guests. ‘The head of sales at Waterstone’s needs his ego tickled. Hugo, come with me.’