I’m in my 30s and I recently noticed that the people I resent most aren’t the ones who hurt me. They’re the ones who saw exactly what was happening, had the standing to say something, and chose their own comfort over my safety. The betrayal that actually shaped me wasn’t the cruelty. It was the audience.
Last winter, walking my border collie through Holyrood Park on one of those Edinburgh mornings where the cold sits in ...
