A month has passed since our unforgettable girls' night out, and now the Trap House is buzzing with the excitement of the crew's latest adventure. Nora, Jake, Sam, and Colby are gearing up for a two-week trip to Maine, a place brimming with picturesque landscapes and hidden gems. They're planning to film their exploration and share their journey with their audience.

As they prepare to leave, I'm filled with a bittersweet mix of emotions. I'm genuinely excited for them, knowing how much they love these adventures and how much their audience looks forward to their content. At the same time, the thought of being apart from them for two weeks tugs at my heart. The Trap House has felt quieter since my accident, and I know their absence will make it even more so.

Nora, sensing my mixed feelings, gives me a comforting hug. "We're going to miss you, Wren. But we're going to make sure to film everything, and you'll get to see it all. We'll bring back lots of stories."

Jake squeezes my hand, his eyes full of affection. "We'll make sure you're included in every moment. And remember, we're just a video call away if you need us."

Sam and Colby also stop by to give me hugs and reassure me that they'll keep in touch. Their support means a lot, and I appreciate their efforts to keep me connected.

As they head out to start their journey, I feel a wave of loneliness wash over me. The Trap House seems emptier as I settle back into my routine. Despite my best efforts to stay busy, the days feel longer without their lively presence.

A few days into their trip, their first video from Maine goes live. I eagerly click on it, excited to see their latest adventure. The familiar opening sequence plays, and I smile as the camera captures the breathtaking scenery of Maine. The landscape is stunning—rolling hills, dense forests, and sparkling lakes.

Just as I'm settling in, ready to be immersed in their adventure, something catches my eye. During the intro, a girl appears standing next to Jake. She's beautiful, with long, flowing hair and a bright smile. She seems to be interacting with the crew and is featured prominently in the video.

My initial excitement about the video falters. I find myself focusing on the girl, her effortless charm and radiance drawing my attention away from the rest of the video. I try to push the feelings of jealousy and insecurity aside, but they persist, making it difficult to concentrate on the content.

As the video progresses, I listen to the crew's dialogue, trying to distract myself from the unsettling feelings. Jake and the others are enthusiastic about their surroundings, chatting excitedly about the different spots they plan to explore. They mention the girl a few times, referring to her as a local who guided them to some hidden locations.

"Her name's Emily," Jake says, smiling as he talks about her. "She's been amazing, showing us some of the best spots around. We're really lucky to have met her."

Sam chimes in, "Emily's been a great help. She knows all the best places to eat and visit. We wouldn't have discovered some of these hidden gems without her."

The way they talk about Emily, with such genuine appreciation and enthusiasm, only deepens the knot of jealousy in my stomach. I try to remind myself that there's no reason for me to feel this way. They're on an adventure, meeting new people, and having fun—just like they always have.

I rewind the video a few times, watching the moments with Emily again. I scrutinize her interactions with the crew, trying to understand why her presence bothers me so much. It's not just her beauty—it's the way she seems to fit so effortlessly into their dynamic, as if she belongs there as much as they do.

I can't shake the feeling of being left out, of not being part of this experience and seeing them connect with someone new. It's as though, despite my efforts to stay positive and supportive, there's a part of me that feels left behind.

By the time the video ends, I'm feeling emotionally drained. I've seen the incredible sights and listened to their excitement, but the lingering thoughts about Emily and my own feelings of inadequacy weigh heavily on me.

I take a deep breath and turn off the video, trying to refocus on the positives. I remind myself of the joy their adventures bring, both to them and their audience. I try to push aside the jealousy and remind myself that their new friendships don't diminish the bond we share.

Sitting alone in the living room, I struggle with a mix of emotions. I'm happy for them, but the reminder of how different things are now makes me feel isolated. The Trap House, once a vibrant hub of activity, now feels quiet and distant.