Dancing, carefree, energetic and revelling in the attention, he moved easily between groups at a West London party I attended last summer, a drink in hand and a confidence that suggested he expected to be recognised and admired.
At the bar, he struck up conversations with groups of women, laughing loudly, leaning in, and working the room with the ease of someone long accustomed to being the focal point.
Later, he was on the dancefloor with friends, relaxed and smiling.
But that night now feels like a snapshot from a different chapter, one that sits in stark contrast to the more complicated reality
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