On a summer evening in Paris, Elise Moreau falls in love with Thomas Calloway quietly, completely, in the way she has never allowed herself to fall before. Then her best friend tells a lie. One lie, told from a place of jealousy and grief, is enough to unravel everything. Thomas leaves. The friendship ends. And Elise spends the next ten years building a life around the absence of the only person who ever truly saw her.
But ten years later, a phone call from a London hospital changes everything. Thomas is ill. He has put her name on a list. Still is a novel about what a single act of betrayal can cost across a lifetime. About the love that survives everything except time. About guilt, and the long road toward something that is not quite forgiveness but is, perhaps, enough. It is also a novel about learning too late and not too late to look at the things that matter before they are gone.
On a summer evening in Paris, Elise Moreau falls in love with Thomas Calloway quietly, completely, in the way she has never allowed herself to fall before. Then her best friend tells a lie. One lie, told from a place of jealousy and grief, is enough to unravel everything. Thomas leaves. The friendship ends. And Elise spends the next ten years building a life around the absence of the only person who ever truly saw her.
But ten years later, a phone call from a London hospital changes everything. Thomas is ill. He has put her name on a list. Still is a novel about what a single act of betrayal can cost across a lifetime. About the love that survives everything except time. About guilt, and the long road toward something that is not quite forgiveness but is, perhaps, enough. It is also a novel about learning too late and not too late to look at the things that matter before they are gone.
