Lewis’ POV

21:50.

Only ten minutes left.

I should be seated in the hall, but I stand a few meters from the door, punishing myself before I have to hand over my phone.

Exhaling in distress, I scratch my forehead as I stare at the last three messages I sent to Soph Soph, especially the one I sent at midnight, wishing her a happy birthday. They’re all unread and not delivered.

I’m blocked. I know. I’ve known for weeks. Yet I try. Yet I call and text, and hope she has a change of heart for ...