BESIDE HER follows a young woman as she finds the courage to walk out of a relationship that has been quietly — and not so quietly — breaking her. The film opens inside that home: empty cans on the table, the buzz of a television in the background, and a boyfriend whose anger fills every room he enters. She is reading. She is hoping he doesn't notice her. He does.

After one final confrontation, she leaves with only her backpack and her bible. The middle of the film is the quiet part — a long walk down the street, a friend's couch, a cup of tea, the sound of her phone buzzing on a blanket beside her. It is the part of leaving no one talks about, the soft and slow rebuilding that doesn't feel like rebuilding while you're inside of it.

Six months later, she is at a coffee shop. A man sits down nearby with a bible of his own, smiles, and slides her a small note with a verse on it. The last act of the film is short, and intentional: a drive home with a song she loves, an afternoon in the woods, and a quiet reminder that what comes next is allowed to be beautiful. BESIDE HER is, in the end, a story about hope — the kind that arrives gently and on its own time.