At the centre is Charlie, a prime-time radio producer in her early thirties whose life fractures after she leaves her husband. The separation doesn’t just end a marriage, it also dismantles her entire friendship network. The group she once belonged to closes ranks, and she finds herself on the outside, navigating awkward encounters, unread messages, and the peculiar loneliness of still technically knowing people who are no longer yours.

Poppy and Alex don’t fall in love in the way most stories would have them do it. There’s no clean beginning. No single moment where everything changes. Instead, it’s a slow accumulation—shared trips, long conversations, habits that start to look a lot like dependence. By the time the question of “what are we?” comes into focus, the answer has been there for years. They’ve just avoided saying it out loud.

A lot of what happens here takes place in the mind rather than in space. There are still battles, still stakes, but they feel different. It's quieter, in a strange way and more abstract. It took me a while to settle into that, and I’m not sure I ever fully did.