I keep my eyes locked on the gallery’s entrance, the steps leading up to it, and it feels like she’s never going to appear.

But sure enough, after a few minutes, there she is.

The sight of Mia after so long, it shocks me, and I am so overwhelmed that I feel that feeling before you start crying.

That ache in the throat.

I watch her walk down the steps, the heels of her boots tapping, the burnt orange of her beret matching perfectly the colour of the trees.

I stand up when she nears.

Hey, I say.

She smiles at me, and she says, Hey.

Golden hour light floods the room, the kind of light photographers’ wet dreams are made of.

The warm breeze pats the long, white curtains, and through the window I can see trees swaying, branches full of bright, green leaves.

I hear the soft sound of faraway kids playing their faraway games.

Under that, a lawnmower drones its way along a lawn somewhere.

We’re in bed. Mia, she’s facing me, tracing my lip with her finger.

I look at the brown of her eyes, the way her hair falls delicately across her face and shoulders.

She smiles, turns around so she’s got her back to me. I feel the warmth of her naked body on mine.

She’s got her hair tied up in a bun, the soft skin of her neck exposed.

I place my lips on the base of her neck.

I feel the fuzz stick to my lips as my warm, damp breath bounces off her skin.

I breathe in deep the smell of her coconut shampoo, and I fall asleep.

F

IFTY

-N

INE

I wake up, alone.

Out the window, I see skyscrapers and power lines and tower blocks.

I turn onto my other side, and I see the immaculately curated furnishings of my room in Charles’s penthouse.

And I remember what happened last night.

How me and Charles got into some crazy shit at the movie star’s apartment.

How I left him to his warped obsession.

I get up, go to the en-suite bathroom, and piss a piss of eternity.

When I walk into the kitchen, Akemi is sitting at the breakfast bar, staring into space.

Oh hey, I say. Can I make you a cup of tea?

The way she’s looking at me, I know for sure something is not right. She looks like she did when we first met, that Antarctic chill blowing.

She says, I spoke to my dad.

I fill the kettle with water, put it on to boil.

She says, He told me what you two have been up to. Sneaking around, messing with that actor and his family.

I have no defences to line up, so I say nothing.

I put a teabag into a cup, pour in the boiling water and feel the steam cling wetly to my face.

She says, You lied to me.

I pour milk into the cup, take the teabag out and dispose of it in the bin.

For sure, I know this is true.

I look at her, and I say, I’m sorry.

I say, I was at rock bottom, and I just wanted to forget who I was for a little bit. Working with your dad, it just made me feel good again, you know?

I say, But when I found out how you felt about him, I was in too deep to be able to tell you the truth.

I say, I shouldn’t have lied, I know that.

She’s quiet, just sitting there, looking at me.

I say, The funny thing is, I came out here wanting to forget who I was. But instead, you actually helped me find myself – in a weird kind of way.

So thanks for that, I say.

She carries on looking at me. Her face is a complete blank.

I can’t figure out what she’s thinking, and the silence is torture.