“Why did you do that?”

“What exactly?”

“Take my place.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I thought he was about to hurt you.”

Mayer took a step forward, doing something that surprised Olaf because he had never seen her do it before with anyone. After almost two years, Olaf had the impression that Mayer was the kind of person who hated physical contact. Let alone an intense hug.

“Thank you,” she whispered in his ear and detached herself from him.

A SEK operative approached. “The suspect is apprehended, detectives. We also found this.” He handed them Leon’s rucksack.

Olaf unzipped the bag, and the first thing his hands grabbed from inside was a notebook. He flipped through the pages. Leon had filled it with sketches and drawings that treaded a fine line between art and madness.

He turned the rucksack over, emptying its contents onto the floor. Apart from the notebook, Leon had brought along a black cloak, leather gloves, and a plague doctor mask.

Chapter 4

MOUNTING ON HIS MOTORCYCLE, OLAF DIALED Tina’s number once again. He had already called her once right after the operation ended, when they had loaded Leon into the back of the SEK van, but she hadn’t picked up. She didn’t answer now either, his call rolling into voicemail after a minute.

He left her a message, just in case she decided to listen, saying that he was on his way.

He fired up the motorbike, striving to clear his mind. Tina not answering, after calling him tens of times, could mean both everything and nothing. Been there. Done that.

Fifteen minutes later, he parked right outside the building. Gazing upward, he noticed the living room window being illuminated. An eerie vibe settled in his stomach.

When had Tina last faced a heavy crisis? And had she mentioned over the phone earlier that she had stopped taking her meds?

After entering the building, Olaf sprinted up the five flights of stairs faster than ever before. His heart pounded in his chest as his hand fumbled to unlock the apartment door.

“Tina?” He hurried straight to the living room, only to find it deserted. “Tina, are you here?” The bedroom was empty too, although the disheveled bed cover hinted at something unusual.

Olaf rushed to the bathroom, his breath caught in his throat upon seeing her.

First, he retrieved his phone and dialed the emergency services for an ambulance.

Then he knelt down next to Tina, letting her know that he was there and help was on the way. He told her that she would be alright, that everything would be alright, and stayed by her side until the paramedics arrived and rang the doorbell.

Everything would be alright.

Chapter 5

OLAF LEFT THE HOSPITAL AND WALKED over to the designated smoking area. He had been trying to call it quits for over a year, and although most of the time he succeeded, occasional events would invariably take him off-road. Coincidentally, many of these events involved Tina and her crises.

The designated area was nothing more than a small space, equipped with a bench and an ashtray. Olaf sat down, produced his pack of cigarettes, and lit one up.

The doctor’s words continued to echo in his mind.

“We’re doing everything we can, but she lost a lot of blood. She’ll have to stay in the ICU overnight.”

Olaf took a drag and was reminded how awful smoking tasted when it was only an occasional indulgence. Blowing out the smoke, he gazed at the starless Berlin sky.

One of the warmest memories from his childhood surfaced in his mind: his mother holding his hand on a summer evening somewhere in the countryside as they strolled beneath a starry night. Olaf had asked her how many stars there are in the universe.

“More than you could ever count,” his mother said. “Way more than all the people living on Earth.”

“So, is it really like that? For every human here, there’s a star over there?”

His mother smiled. “You know what? Some people like to think that. Others go even further, believing that the motions of the stars and planets determine their fate here on Earth.”

“Do they?”

She laughed. “No, they absolutely don’t, and remember this well. You and only you are responsible for your life. Everything you do, whether it’s a small action or a significant one, shapes your fate and your future.”

“Have you got one of those to spare?” a hoarse voice brought Olaf out of his trance.

He shifted his gaze and saw an elderly man on a wheelchair, dressed in hospital pajamas. A patient identification bracelet was wrapped around his wrist, and a saline infusion was connected to his vein.

“Don’t worry about all that,” the man said, pointing at the plastic bottle. “I’ve been diagnosed with terminal brain cancer, and the doctors up there say there’s nothing else they can do. So, I figure I might as well savor a smoke in the meantime, don’t you think?”

Olaf shrugged. He opened the pack and extended it toward the man.

“Thanks, stranger. You happen to have a light as well?”

Olaf reached out and lit up the cigarette dangling from the man’s lips. “I hope you can smoke it on your own at least.”

The man broke into laughter. “You’re a funny guy; I like that.” He inhaled the smoke as if his life depended on it. “So, What’s your story? Visiting or planning to stick around?”

“Visiting.” Olaf extinguished the cigarette butt in the ashtray and lit up a second one. This one tasted more familiar, less harsh. In the end, smoking was just another habit, akin to any other wound. Get hurt frequently enough, and you don’t feel the pain anymore.

“Will she make it?” the man asked.

Olaf looked at the man.

“What is it, stranger? I’ve hung around long enough to learn a thing or two about life. That concern on your face? It’s something only love can bring about.”

Olaf nodded. Love was a word with such gravity, that he wasn’t sure he fully understood it anymore. “I think she’ll pull through this time, but I’m not as confident about the next one.”

The man blew out the smoke. “What exactly happened?”

He recounted how he had discovered Tina unconscious in the bathtub. How he had immediately called for an ambulance, staying by her side, fighting to keep her alive. Like every other time. He told him that she had lost a lot of blood, and was currently in critical condition.

He continued, telling the man how he had given his best to help Tina, which led him to accept his own boundaries. It wasn’t the lack of capacity; he believed he had plenty of that. It wasn’t the lack of expertise either. Tina had tried psychotherapy, medication, rehab—everything had worked, until it didn’t. It was a never-ending cycle.

The man listened with the curiosity of a child, and Olaf felt relieved for opening up. It should have been awkward, disclosing his personal struggles to a complete stranger, sharing aspects of his life he hadn’t even discussed with anyone at work, not even with Mayer. But it felt damn good.

“There’s only one way to break the cycle,” the man said, putting out the cigarette butt in the ashtray. “Give me another one of these, and I’ll share the secret.”