

The Journey of Rosalie

Copyright 2013 Audrey Glanville

Published by Audrey Glanville at Smashwords

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The Journey of Rosalie

Surely it was the case in recent times that people had simply been kidnapped who were never heard from again and, to be exact, exclusively Foreigners – but the Department of Tourism's information sheet with all of its good tips on appropriate behavior still wouldn't be able to keep this from happening. Of that I was sure. Nonetheless, just like all of the other guests at the Srinagar Airport, I took a copy, nodding politely. As I waited for my suitcase at the baggage claim of the new airport, I skimmed over the text and wondered if McKinsey also handed out good advice here for optimizing the influx of foreign currency. What was written was well-meant, but nonsense. I crumpled the paper up and threw it into one of the waste bins. Nevertheless, I was a little surprised, since the Jammu and Kashmir region had been classified as safe by foreign ministries for many years. The measure taken by the local authorities seemed to me to be completely excessive.

Finally, the baggage claim carousel began to make its rounds in front of my weary eyes and I waited patiently until my suitcase made its appearance. As soon as I had gotten it off the conveyor belt and managed to balance its massive form on its wheels, I speedily headed towards the exit. After the long flight from Germany, I only wanted one thing: a shower and some sleep. Waiting for me in front of the airport building was a brilliant blue sky, mild spring air and a bunch of taxi drivers all trying to win me over. After a short discussion about the price of a trip to the city center, a small, lean driver heaved my luggage into the trunk of an old Mercedes and we departed without haste. As I had already suspected, rushing around was in no way the guiding principal in this place and, content, I leaned back into the soft seat. My gaze swept over the magnificent landscape on the other side of the window pane: snow covered peaks enthroned in glistening sunshine. They seemed so massive that I was tempted to believe the car wasn't moving at all. The sunshine reflected off of the snow covered peaks while at the foot of the mountain range green plateaus had been settled on. The plain-looking cabins there seemed spooky and uninhabited, but the grazing herds of animals in front of them were proof that people did indeed live there. The entire surroundings seemed to be drowned in a slightly beige hue and shimmered with an intensity unknown to me. Maybe it was the floating dust particles which gave the air a hue of its own? I was more and more fascinated by the energy that this landscape emanated – just as much by the music which traveled out of the car radio into my ear. The most overblown Indian hit songs resounded and I was sure that the songs, which had parts alternately sung by a man and a woman, must have been about unrequited love. In any case, the driver sounded this way as he was moved to join in on the singing. I had to laugh as I imagined what it would sound like if a Bavarian taxi driver would sing along to the polka songs of my hometown. Personally, I found the current version seemed to be the more humane one.

As the amount of activity going on in the streets suddenly increased, I realized that we were getting closer to the city. A huge number of people, motorcycles, tuk-tuks and car drivers all appeared to have to wrestle for their place on the densely inhabited streets. My eyes followed the spectacle with interest. Amazement took me over about how different the world outside of my continent appeared and all at once I was very excited to be a part of it. However, another part of the street scene bothered me more and more. It was the massive presence of the Indian military lining the streets, whose soldiers, in some places, stood one hundred meters apart from each other. On other stretches they completely dominated the scene, armed with heavy artillery. This was theoretically nothing new. Since time immemorial, the Indian authorities had sought to assert their territorial claim against the population's Muslim majority. The region of Kashmir had had a difficult past and without a doubt continued to deal with it, in part with such unpleasant means.

I was quite uneasy at the unusual sight of heavily armed soldiers and I had to admit: As a child of prosperity from Germany, this was something I was just not used to. I quickly swept aside these disturbing impressions. After all, I had chosen this place in order to report about the pleasant and distinctive features of the city. I had put a great deal of preparation into this trip, always supported by the hope of leaving behind the days of reporting on European holiday destinations - a segment I had worked in up to now. Especially since there was only one constant in this competitive field: competition always remained fierce while profits remained consistently low. I had spent hours googling the whole wide world always looking for a perfect destination. And it was Srinagar which swiftly left all competitors in the dust: It not only had the highest golf course in the world, but also attracted winter tourists with its adjoining aerial cableway and ski slope. The temperate continental climate did the rest to attract fans of both sports. Embedded in huge crags, it called out to adventurous climbers, but also an exotic honeymoon could only become extra special with a visit to the famous "floating gardens of love," which the little lake districts full of romantic lotus flowers were called. In addition, the region possessed abundant cultural treasures, and besides: Hadn't Ayurveda been at the top of the wellness trends list for years?

All in all, exactly the right conditions for diverting attention away from the widespread image of alternative tourism India had often been associated with. These were also the arguments which, in advance and taking into account my proposed fees, had convinced the editors of three major German newspapers, a London golf magazine and a Swiss lifestyle magazine to place a report on this exotic pearl in their segments. I was happy about the successful preliminary negotiations which had opened the door to the world for me and I was determined to make use of the opportunity.

I was so deep in thought that the taxi's abrupt stop startled me and I jumped. I gave the taxi driver the rupees agreed upon and got out. My eyes skeptically surveyed the brown multi-story building, which judging by its outward appearance could not really be thought of as a luxury hotel with the name "Broadway". But I had already seen enough "Hilton" hotels which from the outside also in no way did their name justice. Nevertheless, zealous porters swiftly approached and took my suitcase. The room was also generously sized, but the only oriental glamor to be found was in the form of a woven colored bedspread. This 30 square meter minimally exotic room was similar to ones found in a typical business hotel anywhere in the world. Practically oriented, I resolved immediately to address the quality of the local five star hotels. After all, now it was time to concentrate on the most important things and, to that extent, this clearly structured accommodation harmonized with my plans. I gave the porter a generous tip and opened the heavy beige curtains. My view wandered to the outdoors pool and I spontaneously decided to make use of the opportunity for a short refresher before laying down to rest. I quickly searched for and put on my bathing suit and went down to the concrete cast pool deck. Completely alone, I swam my laps in the cool water. The afternoon sun reflected its rays in the clear blue water and scattered into a thousand new shapes. It was a wonderful spectacle and I amused myself unexpectedly for almost an hour there until returning to my room where I fell exhausted onto the white sheets of the bed.

I must have fallen asleep in no time because when I opened my eyes again I was looking into a deep indigo blue night sky. Dazed, I sat up and no sooner had I figured out where I was than my little sister in Munich popped into my head. I had promised her that I would get in touch with her immediately after landing. Starting already weeks before my planned departure, she had bored into my conscience with a mantra-like command. "You better call me right away, you hear!" even now, thousands of kilometers away, I could hear her voice in my head. I was sure she would already be waiting by the telephone worried to death since I hadn't sent out any signs of life and it was long after my arrival time. I urgently picked up the receiver of the telephone next to my bed and got connected to Germany. As I listened to the dial tone I thought about my sister's excessively fearful nature. In my opinion, she just got progressively worse after the death of our parents eight years ago – especially whenever I got anywhere near an airplane. Due to my career, this had been the case more and more often too.

In a way, I could understand her naive fear perfectly. After all, she was just fourteen years old when our parents died in small propeller plane crash. From one day to the next we had become orphans. Since there were no closer relatives and I was six years older than my sister, Marie, I was awarded custody of her after passing a suitability test. In the beginning everything ran quite smoothly. I had the typical life of a student at a university and my sister visited secondary school without any further problems. We led normal lives in our parent's condominium on the banks of the Isar, right in the center of the serene city of Munich. My circle of friends grew over the years, Marie, however, chose to stay alone. But since she was not a notorious loner, I didn't pay any more attention to it. The first abnormalities arose when I became active in my profession. Her anxiety level rose and fell based on whether I had an assignment or not. It was not always easy to strike a balance between my interests and the needs of my ward, who simply tended to reject any kind of change. I was temperamentally more like my parents, who never shied away from any adventure and I found it astonishing that the same genetic origin could bring forth such different offspring.

Finally, the receiver on the other end was picked up. Marie's voice sounded sleepy. In Germany it was already later in the evening, but my sister liked to spend even the early evening hours in her bed. In this respect, she still behaved like a little child, in my opinion. We exchanged a little information and then I gave her the extension number for my room and quickly said goodbye. Even as my hand let go of the receiver, I already had the urge to go on my first walk through the unfamiliar city. After all, I had slept the entire early evening away and was anxious to get a first impression of the place which was to be my home for the next four weeks. I quickly hopped out of bed, arranged my hair and put on a fresh dress. A short time later, I took the elevator down to the lobby. No sooner than I had left the room key at the front desk, a group of strangers came towards me. They crowded towards the front desk with rapid steps and were conversing lively amongst themselves in English. These people must have almost booked the whole hotel, as many as there were. However, they didn't at all appear to be like one of the usual tourist groups. Their charisma was too autonomous and laid-back. The strange cases some of them were transporting also piqued my interest. My gaze swept over them attentively before I stepped out into the pleasantly temperate spring air of the city.

What lay before my eyes was just as before, wild and exotic. There was still a lot of activity on the streets despite the late hour. Many merchants offered their wares, small food stands along the way gave off strange scents and young tourists were drinking an evening beer on the house boats on the large lake in the city. I eagerly let all of these impressions soak in. Effortlessly, I became a part of the goings-on and I felt as if I was infected with an alien virus. That's how strangely light-footed I also proceeded. After a first evaluation of the city center, I decided to take a little rest in a small restaurant whose architecture resembled an open garage. An old full-figured woman who seemed to be the only one in charge at the establishment shuffled up to me and gave me a menu with pictures of the dishes offered. She was wrapped in many cloths, which together made up something you could call a dress. When I pointed to the chicken soup, which was decorated with hot chili peppers, she nodded contentedly. As I waited for my food, with the uplifting feeling of having arrived, I watched two children playing wildly with a small colored rubber ball on the sandy sidewalk in front of my table. The longer I watched, the more familiar this world seemed to me and how I felt about this place could be summed up with two words: unbounded enthusiasm. As the old woman soon afterward placed the large bowl of hot soup in front of me, she did so without any fancy gestures and then shuffled away with heavy footsteps, not saying a word. I was unable to suppress a slight smile. Everything here seemed authentic and natural – just like the spicy composition of the soup, which left me panting and of which I finished every last drop. Full, tired and restless at the same time, I decided to treat myself to a little drink at the hotel bar. This day had been too exciting to be ended by just crudely fall into bed again. I remembered the recommendation of the receptionist, who had given the rooftop bar of the hotel the highest of praise and decided to end the night there. So I got in the elevator and pressed the "Mastibar" button. The elevator quickly lifted me up, but as the elevator door opened I was presented a scene opposite to that of tepid idyll above the roofs of the city: Spread out over the entire terrace, people were sitting and chatting lively in small groups. It appeared to be the same group that had flooded the lobby earlier. I looked for an available seat at the bar and ordered a vodka on the rocks. My gaze wandered over the active groups at the tables around me. It was impossible to determine what kind of group these people belonged to because they were of all ages, evidently of different nationalities and I found them to have a unique aura. The way in which they conducted themselves was so easygoing and candid, characterized by a flair, which one seldom experiences. Maybe I would still have the chance the find out what they were doing here, but the first order of business was to plan the next day. I searched for my notebook so I could write down my first impressions and go through the notes I had already made in Germany. No sooner had I called up the menu of my Blackberry than I was startled by a somewhat hoarse voice coming from directly behind me.

"Excuse me, are you new?"

I looked up and saw an approximately forty-year-old casually dressed man. With curiosity, he looked me over. He also seemed to be a part of the group.

"Yes, I arrived today," I answered and laid my device aside. "You seem to have an overview here..."

"Well, even if a team looks big – it's not hard to quickly find who you best get along with."

"Team?" I asked, slightly irritated.

"Okay..." My counterpart looked at me scrutinizingly. "Where are you from? Sorry, I should have asked you right from the start. You're a beginner, aren't you?"

"Beginner?" I repeated, amused, and thought about my big report, which, in this form, was new for me. "Why, in a manner of speaking, yes!"

"Ah, ok...and what did you do before?"

I looked at him curiously. Either there was some kind of misunderstanding or it was some kind of uncompromising courtship. But I couldn't read anything special from his expression, except that he had a well-developed sense of self confidence.

"Travel reports, mostly for German-language magazines and as far as I know, I still do that. Unless you mean to prove me wrong," I replied, jokingly.

The expression on the face of my counterpart pulled off the feat of portraying an easing of tension and at the same time intensified curiosity.

"Oh, you're German?" he abruptly asked in my native tongue and free of any accent. I looked at him surprised. He rocked his head slightly back and forth and looked at me with interest.

"So, script assistant, am I wrong?" he said with a hoarse laugh.

"That's another way of saying it too," I replied, amused. "What are you doing here? Based on your accent-free German, you have to be fellow-countryman, right?"

He held out his hand. "You can call me Martin."

I gripped his hand with a noncommittal smile.

"Rosalie."

He came a half step closer to me and with a big grin began to lean on the bar and stroked back his almost chin-length brown hair.

"I'm originally from Marburg, but it's already been a few years since I've been home. Everything is too small and stuffy there for me. And you can only get anywhere in life if you attend a university."

He laughed in a slightly disparaged way and looked at the group as he continued.

"When I was seventeen, I hit the road. I dropped out of school and looked for a job as a cable puller at the smaller studios in London. Since then, nothing has changed, except that my job title is now first cameraman. And I'm currently working for the Wacinskys!"

"Cameraman..." I thought for a moment. "So you are shooting a film here or a commercial?!"

Now he looked at me a bit irritated and pressed his lips together in a somewhat bitter manner.

"What? So you don't know the Wacinskys?"

I also pressed my lips together and gave a regretful smile.

"No, sorry, I'm afraid not. But I'm sure that's about to change."

He nodded, turned his back to me and casually ordered a new drink. Then he turned to me all at once, gesturing in an exaggerated way.

"Why, young lady, we are shooting the new motion picture with Arnault and Kitson!"

He accentuated the syllables as if he believed that what he was telling me would make me fall off of my bar stool. But I also felt as if I was slowly beginning to understand.

"You mean the actors?"

"You got it, a very sharp witted deduction! _The_ Daniel Arnault! _The_ Maxime Kitson!"

"Oh, that's really cool," I replied, now interested. "So, you're shooting the film here?"

"Not directly in the city. We're filming a little further up in the mountains....unfortunately, I can't divulge any details. Contracts, contracts!"

Making a gesture of enormous importance, he leaned back.

"I see," I nodded. "And you all live here in the hotel?"

"The important people."

"Then I'm in good company," I joked, charmingly and wondered what would come next.

"I would indeed describe myself as good company," my counterpart smiled confidently down on me. I stared at him attentively. I found this person to be, in a way, very peculiar, which principally didn't have to mean anything bad, even if something did bother me about his overly nonchalant demeanor. Maybe it was his somewhat capricious nature that was troubling – or even his exaggerated pointy nose which lent his face a somewhat devious expression. Nevertheless, I decided to continue to exude charm for now because I was a stranger here and could really use any kind of contact. I took my drink and made a toast.

"To our having met!" I laughed charmingly.

"To the future!"

Martin looked deeply into my eyes. The depth must have been in proportion to the amount he had drunk, but that didn't bother me. Quite to the contrary – maybe this circumstance could even be beneficial to me. Perhaps he could tell me some interesting stories about the project's main actors. I decided to stay close to him, which I also succeeded at, until we finally staggered off to our rooms. And of course we went our separate ways, even if Martin surely had had something else in mind.

The next morning I woke up in my room's king-size bed with a considerable hangover. When I lifted my head from the sheets, my neck muscles tightened painfully. The intermezzo at the bar last evening had wrought pure evil! Martin had bought me one drink after another and I stupidly drank them all while he continuously supplied me with information about the film shooting and the actors taking part in it. For me it was exciting to get a glimpse into a world which, until now, had remained a secret to me. But I had persevered a little too long – which my relentlessly pounding head was now making painfully clear. Nevertheless, the effort was worth it: I now knew where the crème de la crème of acting heaven resided and what they were working on. Location: Pahalgam Hotel, situated in the Mountains. To a great extent, the script had to be based on events which happened in 2006. Which ones they were exactly, Martin didn't want to tell me. Something to do with terrorism, one time he mentioned Mumbai and immediately the 2006 incident in which a whole train full of commuters became the victims of a deadly attack came to mind.

Slowly I rose from my bed and went to my digital notebook. The name of the hotel seemed familiar to me and after a short search I did indeed find it in my notes again. Due to its spectacular location in the mountains, it had already been used several times for film productions and was saved in my notes under the "interesting accommodations" category. I remembered that Martin had never stopped talking about his status as first cameraman and the unused reservations at the Pahalgam. I wondered about that a little because actually he shouldn't have had much to do with hotel bookings as a cameraman. However, he did speak of his being part of a "large family" at work and that "everyone one had enough" if they had Kitson around them the whole day.

"I don't need her around me in the evening too," was his sober declaration.

He was only staying here in the Paradise Hotel because of the "super crew". While saying this, he had looked demonstratively at the group of people present. In contrast, no one had paid any attention to him. I knew nothing of the hierarchy in the film business and just took his word on everything for the time being. Now, in the light of the new day, I resented my unassertive nature. After all, it's not every day that you meet a crew member of an international film production with two renowned stars. I had to proceed with my research because Srinagar had only held pleasant surprises in store for me thus far. I was among the small group of people who were convinced that foreign places each had their own unique effects on people. While working on travel reports I noticed time and time again that in some places all of my undertakings led to nowhere while in others everything just happened naturally. My position only drew ridicule among my circle of friends who were only interested in pure science. However, in the case of objections to my theory, I could always suggest that they leave the comfort of their own home more often, before they make fun of the experiences of others. Usually, the only response my counterpart had to this was awkward silence, which always gave me some sense of satisfaction. And perhaps the Jammu and Kashmir region was finally the perfect place for consolidating the advancement of my career which I had so longed for. I decided to definitely keep the matter in mind and engage in a little investigating later on. But first I had to go to my first official appointment in Srinagar: A meeting with the region's tourism representative. The order of business included a joint visit to the famous tulip gardens – the largest in the world, of course. Another of the region's accessories that was capable of receiving the title of highest, largest and most fascinating. I closed my notes and my gaze wandered to the clock. It was a pleasant surprise that there was still enough time for a few laps in the pool. I quickly slipped into my bikini and went headfirst into the cold water. As I did my laps in the pool, I once again thought about what could be achieved if I checked in to the Pahalgam Hotel.

"Actually not a single thing..." I heard a part of me soberly state. But an inner fascination held me tightly in its grip. Everyone knew the two leading actors of the movie and the director, Wright Manson, was probably well-known as well. Just to me, unfortunately, the name didn't ring a bell. I had to admit that I didn't know much at all about the action movie genre. However, that would change today. What was the free Wi-Fi in the hotel for, anyway? I was determined not to let any opportunity pass me by. After all, I came here to experience something. The essence of my ambition would surface, I was sure of it. What would be of interest? Where should I start? An interview? Not likely! Photos of the set? Only possible with Martin's help! Secret photos of Maxime Kitson at the hotel bar? All of a sudden I saw myself in my mind's eye as an undercover paparazzi. I had to snicker at the thought and, as a result, almost choked on some of the pool's water. I rested at the edge of the pool. My gaze was drawn upwards into the glistening sun. Its heat was already amazingly intense. I squinted into it and its rays splintered into thousands more on my retina. I quickly pulled myself out of the pool and the little white dots persisted in appearing in my vision until I got back to my room. As I got dressed, I decided to get my head out of the clouds for now and keep my first appointment: A first rendezvous between millions of tulips.

My first encounter with the tourism representative also turned out to be quite beneficial. No sooner had I shook his hand than I recognized the boundless enthusiasm in him. I suspected that we would get along extremely well. And my intuition didn't fail me at all. He led me through the vast seas of tulips and avidly immersed me in his knowledge of every little last detail about the region. When it came to praising his country, he was all but unstoppable. I found this to be exceptionally pleasing and after we parted I was still dizzy from the superlatives he had slipped into every sentence.

As I got into the taxi which had been sent for, I put together the basic structure of the text in my mind. Once brought to paper, it would be a magically exotic event which no one should miss out on. In my opinion, everything was just a question of fiction that had to be transferred into a foreign mind to stimulate its imagination. Done properly, success was assured. The man from the tourism authority held the same point of view as me and at the end of our meeting he gave me a small picture portfolio full of the exhibition's attractions complete with a memory card. I immediately asked if it was the official portfolio of the exhibition and he handled the question just as evasively as he did gallantly, as he replied:

"Each photo is of course an individual creation for _your_ country."

I didn't believe him for a second, but still politely bowed farewell. It was all the same to me because I had taken plenty of photos of my own, which wouldn't lead to any copyright problems. The first report was as good as in the bag and sold to the "home and garden" sector and various hotel and other magazines you find laying in lobbies and waiting rooms. They loved these kinds of innocuous articles, just as much as the potential readers did, who like having their waiting time filled pleasant stories from the great wide world. Thanks to the dedication of the kind man, I was now excellently informed. I was sure that this wouldn't be my last report from a different continent, because deep within me I sensed that there was much more to be discovered outside of one's own comfort zone.

Back at the hotel, it was time to create a first rough draft of the material before any of my impressions could fade. As a principal, I never let much time pass whenever there was something to report because only this way did the intention and expression remain strong. After an hour, I had the basic text ready and my first task was finished for the time being. Satisfied, I leaned back. Now it was time to find out more about my surprising "second project". I opened my browser's window and without delay began to do research on the nearby superstars. Maxime Kitson's biography and way of life were just as smooth as her 40 year old skin. She was a sophisticated artificial product and nothing about her seemed "genuine". Not even her career, which could only really be attributed to her marriage to a top boss of an American motion picture studio. Thanks to him, she was granted immediate entry into the big leagues. Maxime acted exclusively in top productions and held roles which were always quite substantial. When her then husband divorced her – allegedly due to infertility – she experienced a kind of career slump. Since then she still acted in big productions and attained respectable box-office results, but the content of her films had become much more trivial. It was mostly just petty love story movies. With her current husband, a former MET conductor, she led a rather reclusive life.

Marcel Bethmann, Maxime's husband, was less fortunate with his career than she was. Five years ago, a car accident had left him with a stiff shoulder joint. A circumstance that ended his career as a conductor in the blink of an eye. From this life-changing event, he seemed never really to have recovered, because he had done nothing else but accompany his wife from one shooting location to the next since then. Officially, he had already been working on writing a "book" for four years – so far with no released title, content or fixed publication date. It seemed doomed to fail. I felt sincere sympathy.

The male lead actor also seemed to be more of a reclusive type. Daniel Arnault began his career as a theater actor, but soon switched to French "film noir". These short quirky Parisian milieu stories drew the attention of major studios to him. The first more expensive production in London already provided him his breakthrough: A secret agent movie which had no happy ending. Based on his biography, I suspected that his theater work represented his true identity as an artist.

'Appeal to civilized people' spontaneously sprang to mind when I thought of him, since he enjoyed playing the roles of modern playwrights such as Tennessee Williams and Jean Paul Sartre. Surprisingly, for some years now, he had gotten attention for playing action hero roles, to which, according to an interview statement he made, his contribution was "only my body" and that he invested no more than "solely my body". The son of a Lithuanian teacher and a French military officer, Arnault lived a rather withdrawn life in London, despite his remarkable fame. His home city of Paris didn't seem to play a role in his life anymore. At twenty-five he married an unknown German actress, but this turned out to be just simple infatuation. Nevertheless, the marriage lasted nearly seven years until they got divorced due to irreconcilable differences. I suddenly liked his having something to do with my country – what a great conversation topic! But perhaps he still had negative feelings about it, even after all these years, so I held my excitement in check. Daniel Arnault would have to be approached carefully. I just hoped that despite his calm and withdrawn nature he would actually leave his room, cause:

"... otherwise there would only be photos taken through the keyhole" I snickered in an extremely silly manner and shook my head at my own audacity. Arnault's private interests included playing golf and practicing an Asian martial art. I immediately thought about how convenient it must be for him to be working next to one of the most spectacular golf clubs in the world and I noticed how I began to fantasize.

"You're behaving like your little sister," my rational side scolded me, but it wasn't able to ruin the fun I was having with my new-found pastime. Around 9:00 p.m. I checked out one last short tabloid report from the previous month. Arnault could be seen on a beach with an unknown beauty.

"Arnault passionately in love with Asian."

The tabloid quoted a source which alleged he preferred Asian women. Bad news for me, since I was neither small nor flat-chested, which had, however, up to now always been advantageous. But tastes were known to be different and I had to admit that Daniel Arnault had never caught my eye before either. Suddenly I recognized another difficulty: To be a journalist and sit at the same bar was a delicate matter, because I was, so to speak, the arch-enemy of the industry. It would perhaps be necessary to come up with a tall tale to draw attention away from by career. I ordered a cup of tea from room service and thought about what kind of subject matter could divert attention away from me being a journalist. It would have to be an unexpected topic, sober and captivating. Perhaps it would be better to show up as a book author. I frantically looked for anything which would facilitate the start of a conversation. Climate catastrophe? Child labor? Social studies? The situation facing women here? - That was it! I remembered a short film that I had seen while researching the region. It dealt with the religion-related abuse of women and had been very successful at festivals all around the globe. The report calls for the prohibition of the religious practice involving a so-called "Jogini" - a woman of a lower caste who has to make herself sexually available to all the men in the village free of charge – and for purely religious reasons, at that.

It was immediately clear to me that I would begin there. I imagined myself sitting at the Pahalgam hotel's bar: Maxime Kitson indignant down to even below her immovable facial features, but the men are attracted to the way she his and flirt more readily. Nervously, I bit my lower lip and stared at the screen. My tale began to take shape. I created a person who devoted herself tirelessly to a good cause, proceeded virtuously, someone who could further the cause of this organization with the support of a celebrity; someone who captivated their listeners and knew how to seize an opportunity. I slammed my hand down on the ornate tabletop and drummed with my fingernails on the soft wood in excitement.

"The Joginis!" I joyfully cheered.

Seldom was I above having a little fun and I was now royally enjoying myself. It was worth a try, because if these celebrities up there weren't complete couch potatoes, then I already had them in the palm of my hand. The place would belong to me! To establish contact with someone wasn't hard for me and there were all sorts of tricks for doing so and if _such_ a thing wasn't a reason to start a conversation, I wouldn't know what would be...

Content, I leaned back and considered indulging myself in a drink at the bar on the rooftop terrace. I was also curious to see if the crew would be ending their evening there again. I looked at the clock. They had been finished with shooting for an hour now. It shouldn't be much longer before they arrived at the bar. I decided to beat them to it. However, as the elevator door opened, the only sound was that of the mild wind blowing. The only employee there looked at me with a bored expression and I decided to stick it out there. I would sit tight and there was no chance of me spending the evening away from the hotel. I was really concerned with finding out how feasible my undertaking would be and wanted to glean more information from Martin. Out of respect for the hangover from the night before, I ordered an orange juice and looked at the sky which bestowed a fascinating dark blue tone on the earth today again. When I looked into this strange blue, I truly believed in my streak of good luck. Although I didn't really know whether a story would develop at all, my lips tended to keep forming a little smile over and over. Martin had indeed been so charming as to provide me with explicit details and I hoped that this evening would bring forth a similar scenario. My hope was to be fulfilled. All of a sudden I heard voices as a group of eight to ten people stepped out of the elevator. I checked to see if Martin was among them, but he wasn't. But when the elevator came up with the second small group, he was in it. In compliance with his status as first cameraman, he first acted as if he didn't see me. However, I didn't let that discourage me and headed toward Martin who was standing together with a loosely knit group. I tapped him on the shoulder.

"Hi, have you forgotten me already?" I asked with an alluring fluttering of my eyelashes.

"Oh, hello, you here again too?" he asked, seemingly bored.

"Yes, I wanted to thank you for the drinks. It was really nice of you to treat me. I wanted to ask if I could return the favor?"

With slower movements, I let down my long slightly wavy hair. As a believer in biology, I knew which simple reflexes got the attention of the world of men. It was a cinch to quickly detect their weaknesses and usually easy to exploit them too. You just had to be the appropriate age and understand how to interpret the visual cues – then you could usually gain the upper hand quite rapidly. And this time it worked again too, as Martin's body language immediately changed. He turned to me, smiled and linked arms with me.

"Sorry, yesterday I was a little drunk. Perhaps we can go about things a little differently today..." I wooed him without end.

"Well, the night is still young," he answered and acted more open with every passing second. He left his colleagues standing there – unfortunately without introducing me. I wasn't really happy about this act of discourtesy; on the other hand, there wasn't much to be gained by getting to know them. Most of the time it didn't go beyond small talk, which wouldn't help me or advance the prospects of my second project. We walked together to the bar and I ordered two drinks.

"And?! Did you have a busy day today?" I asked in an emphatically casual manner.

I knew well enough from the previous evening that there wasn't anything Martin liked to do better than talk about his work. Non-disclosure obligation and contracts had been thrown out the window – he was just too full of himself and every detail seemed important. For hours he had enchanted me with the tricks and workarounds of an on-set camera operator. Above all, he loved action scenes or, even better, nighttime action plus artificial rain. Of all the participants in the shooting, it was the stunt men that he admired the most. They were his real heroes and, the way it seemed, he would like to be one of the unknown supermen too, but he inherently lacked the necessary physique for this. I made up my mind to take more control over the direction of the conversation today and find out what the superstars were like in private. I had heard enough about lighting and camera equipment for now. This time I wanted to get into internal human affairs and it happened more easily than I could have hoped for. We hadn't been sitting for long when Martin started in on the topic all by himself:

"Out of jealousy, Arnault's girlfriend ran out into the middle of one of his scenes today and made quite a scene of her own. Everyone and I mean everyone on the set froze in place. Nobody cried out "Stop!" or said anything at all. They were all stunned. There was also something indirectly artificial about it..."

"Oh?" I looked at him, surprised. He raised his glass. I did the same, awaiting the next details.

"It was unbelievable. In the end we had almost 3 minutes of footage of this Asian girl yelling. Arnault couldn't hardly believe it himself either and just stared at her the whole time. I have rarely seen a woman in such fervor. If she was the same way in bed, then I could understand what he saw in her. But there seems to have been nothing going on lately in that department...judging from her statements at least."

He laughed out loud and gave me a quick glance to see if I was receptive such comments. I was.

"And then?" I drilled him for more information.

"After she had finished with her screaming, Daniel led her out of the scene, Kitson, somewhat offended, dabbed at her nose with a tissue and Wright immediately banned Sachiko from the set. Then he took Arnault aside. I think the little woman is sitting in a plane by now. She won't be showing up here again and walking in on us..." He gave a hoarse laugh. "She was terribly jealous and couldn't tell the difference between a movie and reality. These Asians just play too many computer games."

"Well, tastes differ, even in the choice of women..." I intentionally jibed.

"That's true!" He raised his glass to me, smiling seductively. "I had been under the impression for some time that Arnault had wanted out of the relationship and that's why she had become more and more of a control freak. I've even heard that they have had separate hotel rooms in the past few days. Such a waste..."

In one big last swallow, Martin finished his drink and looked at me contentedly.

"Arnault is really an OK guy. Doesn't talk any nonsense, always has his feet on the ground, disciplined, quiet. He must have taken her along for aforementioned other reasons. One hears quite a bit about Asian women and their fine arts." He grinned at me suggestively. I smiled back attentively.

"Quiet...? So he's not really the big action hero kind of guy then?" I asked, curious.

"In private? No way. It just looks like that on the screen. He often speaks with crew members during standby time. Kitson only sits around in her trailer...really lousy of her. But I can understand that Sachiko got on her nerves when she always tried to prevent other women from being around Arnault. In the end, that was more stressful for Sachiko than anyone else...because..." He laughed out loud again. "...in this flick alone, Arnault has three female make-up artists!"

I had to admit that this situation was indeed humorous.

"When we were shooting the action scenes all three women applied the wounds to his million dollar body. Sachiko was always there watching and afterward she allegedly always rose hell. Something like that disrupts the flow on the set and takes the fun out of it for everyone." He obliviously nodded in agreement with his own observation.

"Kitson is the exact opposite, isn't she?" I asked, apparently naive. He exuberantly raised his half full glass towards me.

"You got it. She is professional and would prefer not to have anyone at the shooting location that isn't involved with the making of the movie! Maybe that's why her husband stays put in the trailer."

Martin laughed and was, as usual, really enjoying his own jokes.

"Why so sensitive?" I interjected. "I thought being professional meant that the surroundings while shooting weren't a factor."

He rocked his head back and forth and rubbed a hand over his unshaven chin.

"No idea. She just doesn't like strangers. Maybe she is afraid, because if you see her up close, you can tell that she is older than a supposed mere forty-one years."

"Oh..." I was very excited. "How do you know that?! That's not something she just would just tell someone during a coffee break..."

"Hehe, no. There are rumors of an unusual contract. Kitson loves contracts which are out of the ordinary. For example, she can only be expected to take part in one hour of direct sunlight shooting per day. Quite an obstacle in this region..."

"And what's it like working with her otherwise?" I continued to dig deeper.

"Maxime? Too much attitude for my liking! Cold to the core. Arrogant. Vain. I think she'll be happy when she can sit around in the studio again. Unpleasant artificial product. Uninteresting."

While he was still finishing his sentence, he turned and ordered a new drink. We touched glasses and once again said cheers. In my opinion, there was every reason to do so. The more I talked to Martin, the more the belief manifested in me that I would be able to use my job effectively for the first time. After all, the here and now was flattering me with Martin's persistent advances. In the meantime, I also already had an idea of who could be interested in such material: Marc, a man with whom I had had a casual relationship with during the eight months in which I worked in an online editorial team in London. I couldn't really describe this work in the "Nature and Garden" resorts sector as a milestone of my career, but I couldn't be ungrateful – it had, after all, allowed me to live quite comfortably in one of the most expensive metropolises in the world. Nevertheless, my fate at this time seemed to be misguided and mindless since my work involved describing life _in_ the earth instead of _on_ it. I met Marc two months after my arrival at a fair. He approached me as I was standing alone at the publisher's promotional stand while the others were on lunch break. He was tall, dark-haired and had a trustworthy smile that he knew how to use in a targeted manner. It was immediately clear to me that he wasn't interested in flora and fauna when he asked for my card, but the attraction was mutual and, in the meantime, I had often been feeling lonely in the big city. He readily helped me to find my way around in the strange environment, which was easy for him, being the head of a really large picture agency. We began a casual affair which lasted for months and upon mutual agreement it turned into friendship in the end. Even to this day, we were still surprisingly swapping lively e-mails. He often sends me absurd little stories since we have the same sense of humor. Because Marc had extensive contacts, it was now up to me to collect interesting material to present to him and discuss the future of. Attentively, I turned to face Martin again who looked relaxed and was leaning back watching the goings-on on the roof-top terrace.

"What does Arnault actually say about all of this?" I continued to chat and put my glass down. Martin sighed deeply, as if he himself were involved.

"I felt pity for him. But, on the other hand, it's his own fault if he brings such a woman along. Already on the first day on the set they looked as if they had just gotten into it." Martin stared off into space for a little while. "I think this Asian woman played her last card today trying to turn the ship around. But, it had just the opposite effect. And it was a foolish act..." Exasperated, he searched his pockets for an unknown object. I watched his somewhat clumsy gestures closely and secretly rejoiced over Sachiko. She was great! Perhaps in the coming days it would even be possible to watch this disturbing scene myself... - I had to believe that anything was possible, after all...

"How long are you staying in the city?" I asked, interested.

"Six more days. After that we continue on to Delhi. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, just because. It's exciting listening to you. I'm sure you have a few more great stories in stock!"

"If you're looking for great stories, just go find them directly at Pahalgam," he answered, almost a little snappy.

I thought to myself quietly: Six days. That was enough to time to find out whether my "second project" would lead to anything. I decided to keep making use of my information broker for the rest of this evening. With his unstoppable need to share, he was much too big of a prize to waste. And so I stayed close to him – another whole evening.

The next morning I once again did my rounds in the pool. Luckily, I had escaped a hangover – quite in contrast to Martin, who surely hadn't experienced an easy start to his day. This time I had been the evildoer and had bought him one drink after the other. To put my own conscience at ease, I quickly reminded myself that I hadn't forced him to accept these drinks in any way. And, in the end, he himself realized he had had one too many and I escorted him at a late hour to his hotel room as he awkwardly staggered along. After we had exchanged telephone numbers and e-mail addresses, he disappeared into his domicile with unsteady footsteps. We assured each other we would stay in contact.

"Have a little look around young woman. It can't do any harm!" seemed to be his motto for that evening and I was intent on taking his advice. In his own way, Martin was a master at building excitement and provided me with small yet interesting details of the "overpaid", which is how he described his protagonists standing in front of the camera. To my regret, he conspicuously kept quiet about the private habits of my two superstars during the course of the evening. But that only put my ambition to the test once again.

"When they're not filming, they are in the hotel..." he said evasively whenever I made further inquiries. According to their contracts, the main actors were not allowed to move about the metropolis freely. Certain terrains had been classified as "undesirable". Their lives were subject to a kind of protective clause.

"A simple precautionary measure of the insurance companies!" my companion had scoffed.

Additionally, according to Martin, they didn't have any time for longer expeditions of their own since the start of shooting was scheduled for very early in the morning and make-up took varying amounts of time to apply. So, they had to get up quite early.

"If Arnault isn't injured in the scenes, he only needs a fraction of the time and always looks great. This gets under Maxime's skin something fierce! We do use filters for her so the people aren't shocked."

I wondered to myself, however, what niveau one kept up among the "elite", but women were capable of anything, in my opinion. After a certain age they often acted more foolishly than men. And all of us fall prey to our instincts at one point. I sighed, as even I was not above this either – at least not at the moment. Feeling fit after consequently carrying out my laps, I got out of the water and made my way to my room. Once there, I picked up the receiver and called the Pahalgam Hotel. I gave them my name and asked if a room was free, since a certain Mr. Scheller, alias Martin, explicitly assured me there would be. And there really was no problem at all. The room had already been reserved and my arrival was being looked forward to. I thanked them and put the receiver back on its base with a slow movement. I remained silent for a few seconds on the edge of my bed. My eyes followed the thick drops of water that slid from the strands of my hair onto the beige floor. I found it somewhat surprising that Martin was going to such great lengths for me, but if fate wanted to steadily guide me there: Why not! My gaze shifted further to my suitcase. Unexpectedly, it was already time to pack again. I got up and untied the towel around me so I could get dressed. As I latched shut my full suitcase, a shiver ran through me: How exciting life could be!

A little while later, I checked out. I asked the "Broadway" hotel personnel for an adequate address where I would be able to scale up my wardrobe since I had no acceptable clothing for the occasion and gave them a sizable tip in advance. The young men at the reception became all at once so enthusiastic that it was possible to think that the employees had been replaced by new ones. They even told the taxi driver to take me to an address where they assured me all my wishes would be fulfilled. I arrived in a street full of boutiques where I didn't stay too long and bought two figure-hugging yet elegant cocktail dresses made of pure silk. Now I was ready for anything. If there was one thing I was sure of, it was that men didn't really fancy falling in love with jeans, even if this is what women's negligence in dress had been dictating to them in recent times. Once I was back in the taxi I noticed that it was still much too early to check in. I spontaneously decided to go to the "Shalimar Bagh" - The Gardens of Love. This term referred to the largest of four floating gardens that bordered the large Dal Lak Lake. This park held a place of great importance in the history of Srinagar. According to legend, one of their rulers, a certain Jahangir, had this park built for his beautiful and intelligent wife, Jahan. And I wanted to find out more about it. For a change, I didn't haggle with the taxi driver over the price, which he, after already having driven a little ways, had "unintentionally" forgot again. This time, I wasn't concerned about it.

Having barely arrived, I began my lengthy walk through the spacious terrace-like arranged areas, which were connected to each other by water canals. Temple-like structures with elaborately decorated lakeside areas delighted the eye of the beholder with unprecedented magnificence. When I arrived at the black marble columns of the main building, I was met by an unexpected unobstructed view of the lake. On its surface an estimated one million lotus blossoms competed with each other. It was an overwhelming thing of beauty, which took me completely by surprise. Of course I had imagined these gardens would be massive, but in the glistening sunshine they seemed even more boundless. I paused taking all the beauty of it in. The longer I stood there, the more mystical the surroundings seemed. The Buddhist parable in which the development of a human was likened to that of the lotus flower came to mind: Solely the swamp in which their roots rested brought forth their perfection. Therefore, a person should take heed of this and use their desires to reach their full potential. This metaphor left me strangely touched. I stood still for an unusually long time and listened within. Sometimes a question rushed through my mind and the water of the lake seemed to respond to me with its collected wisdom. Shortly before I recognized how strangely I was acting, I bent down and grabbed one of the flowers. I simply had the feeling it would bring me luck. Then I turned away and hailed a taxi again. First on the way to the hotel did I notice that I had completely forgotten to take photos. Something like that had never happened to me before. I silently shook my head with a slight smile. The Gardens of Love – they seemed to me to be a very special place!

It was early afternoon as I made my way to my new accommodation. In a way, I was still feeling quite surreal since the drive to the hotel through bewildering landscape formations didn't necessarily help to rationalize my mood – the opposite was the case. I didn't even notice when the taxi stopped because I was so focused on the view of the landscape out of the vehicle's window.

"Madame...?" I heard the questioning voice of the driver and was startled. Dazed, I handed him the agreed upon rupees and got out. Even as I entered the lobby, I right away had the impression that I had once again arrived at a unique place. Not just the prominent location with its breathtaking view, but also the subdivided architecture consisting of many connected houses created something truly special. It was the first hotel I had visited which was built horizontally instead of vertically. However, it fell far short of fulfilling the elegance norms of the western world. It was first when I met the staff that I became focused again and immediately got back to work. I let myself be thoroughly informed about the hotel's facilities. I also put some pressure on them to tell me which of the three bars there was the most popular meeting place. I was recommended to try the restaurant with the Korean cuisine and the connecting Stone Mountain Bar. It was supposed to be frequented regularly. It was left to be seen whether this recommendation would prove to be good for anything or if it just served the staff's need for getting some peace and quiet. Then I visited my room and was surprised at its rather simple and straightforward kept features. It seemed like common tourist class to me.

"Do all rooms look like this?" I blurted out spontaneously.

The staff member nodded and gave me a casual gesture indicating he wanted me to come with him. After taking a few steps down the hall, he pragmatically opened the door to another room which was similarly equipped and also somewhat run down.

"This is our best room."

The whole thing was a little embarrassing because I never really intended for my question to go so far, especially since the room even seemed to be occupied. I saw a rough-knit jacket together with other pieces of clothing lying on the bed and quickly turned away. With a gesture, I made it clear to the employee that everything was perfectly fine and came to the conclusion that the reputation, status and price of the hotel could neither be the result of the interior nor the trained service staff. After I had my put clothes away and had placed the lotus flower in the complimentary glass, the question arose of what to do next. In an almost uncanny way, I constantly felt as if the landscape was pulling me into it during the whole trip up to the hotel. And lacking any other interesting options, I decided to pay the huge mountains at this altitude a personal visit. I quickly put on a fine mesh sweater, as it would certainly be quite chilly among the rocks and there was no need to impress anyone yet. I glanced out the window and was met by a blue sky shining on me. I turned around and quietly closed the door to my room behind me.

The mountain air was cool and clear. I walked straight to the weathered signs that advertised some kind of overlook point and kept following the winding path further and further upwards. I noticed how the exercise was doing me good and I was being driven by an invisible inner engine. Despite that, my thoughts always circled back to the question of what had actually possessed me to switch to this god-forsaken place and walk around alone through this landscape. My own actions seemed increasingly incomprehensible to me and I began to feel silly for taking Martin's suggestions. When I reached the platform and beheld the vastness of the landscape, I suddenly became very queasy. I couldn't hold back the army of questions which began to attack: What if all of the occupants of the hotel avoided me – never visited the bars and stayed sitting in their rooms, so as to not have to talk to strangers? Maybe I should have stuck with Martin: He was tangible and had great stories – maybe a story about him would have made more sense! As vain as he was, he most certainly would have shown interest in it and I would have been on the safe side! What in God's name did I want to achieve here? I nervously shifted from one foot to the other. This sudden surge of doubt irritated and controlled me. Reluctantly, I started to make an inner correction: I had arrived at one of the most beautiful views the world had to offer and all the new and interesting information would flow naturally to me – all that I wished for! These gloomy thoughts were not productive. I had to be consequent and shake them off! Rapidly, as if I wanted to strip away all darkness from my mind, I turned around with an almost defiant gesture. At the same moment, I stumbled backwards, startled. I lost my footing and crashed down a ways onto a safety fence, placed there to keep observation deck visitors from falling off the cliff. Chills went through my limbs. My body was on edge – my heartbeat seemed to stand still, my abdomen clenched and my mouth was dry. I swallowed and began to get up. My movements were slow. Very slow. Directly in front of me on the observation platform, I saw a man with dark blond hair and striking features dressed in jeans and a thick Tibetan sweater. He seemed almost as shocked looking down at me as I was looking up to him.

"I...I didn't want to scare you," he said with an accent which I couldn't immediately place. "I'm sorry. Please forgive me!"

My heart was beating so hard, I could feel the throbbing in my temples and I noticed that, despite the cool air, beads of sweat were forming on my skin.

"Oh, yes, no...don't worry about it," I laughed, embarrassed, as I nervously rubbed my hand on my jacket. I frantically looked at the ground and searched for a way to get back up to the somewhat higher observation platform. He immediately reached out his hand to me to help pull me up the small slope. I grabbed it, while beneath my skin a swarm of ten thousand small continually rolling spheres formed. They bored through my muscle tissue directly into my inner organs and then rolled back to my skin's surface. In slow motion, I noticed how tight his hand's grip was. A part of my brain seceded and was aware only of this hand. It was warm, dry and very strong. I knew what it would feel like on my body.

"May I?" my counterpart asked with somewhat of a delay, as he had already pulled me back onto the platform and hadn't moved one step since then. We were standing just as close as in the moment of my fall. I could see that there were isolated orange areas in his bright green pupils and I suddenly blurted out in an untimely manner:

"There are orange colored specks in your eyes."

My counterpart looked at me with a penetrating gaze. I noticed how his hand raised slightly, almost as if he wanted to brush back a strand of hair from my face. I should have closed my eyes just to await his touch. But we stayed still, without any reaction. Almost lightning-fast, he came to his senses and took a step back. I looked at his face. It was Daniel Arnault. Reality hit me again as well. Oh my God – _what had I just said?_ Was I out of my mind?

'Yes!' my condition answered, almost euphorically. I was completely out of my mind. Unbridled delight galloped within me. It overwhelmed me in a way I had never experienced before. This scenario could not possibly be true!

"Excuse me, I'm sorry," I brushed my hair away from my eyes, bewildered. "I must be in shock a little."

"Me too!" my counterpart managed to smile. Embarrassed, he rubbed his hands together and continued after a short while.

"That has always been the case."

I had no idea if he was replying to my poorly timed statement and let my gaze fall to his rough-knit jacket. I began to feel how his body _breathed_. Then they began in my lower left abdomen. I was enlivened and frightened by these ten thousand tiny spheres which repeatedly went on new rounds in my body.

"Want to walk a little ways together?" he suggested, seemingly out of nowhere.

"Yes." I laughed, a little insecurely. "Of course. My pleasure."

I think I actually shook my head in disbelief a little. On the one side of my brain, loud words began to pound their way into my awareness that apparently didn't make any sense at all.

'Pull yourself together! You need to keep a cool head now! You have to go about this strategically. Get to it! Now the chance has arrived. Tell him something. Ask something!'

On the other side of my head, there was only a gaping void. I was in a complete vacuum, which was not prepared to produce any kind of content.

"Do you come here often?" he asked me as we slowly began to walk side by side. I looked at him briefly from the side. I quickly became dizzy.

"I arrived today."

"Good," he nodded to himself for a long time for unknown reasons. "So, you are staying in the hotel?"

"Yes." I began to slowly recover. "In the plain category." It was supposed to be funny. He looked down at me sideways and his lips formed a weak smile.

"Yes, the place is indeed kept remarkably modest..."

"But it has its own unique charm..." I nervously replied.

He slowed his pace and I noticed that his intense gaze seemed to look me over from head to foot. What was he doing? I looked questioningly at him.

"Please, excuse me." He looked at the ground, disconcerted. "You remind of someone. I just can't say who. Or if I have even met this person before." I scrunched my eyebrows together and began once again to talk nonsense.

"Maybe in a supporting role." My own voice seemed strange to me – the aim being to sound cheerful. Spontaneously, he took a step towards me and almost pierced me with his gaze. His composure seemed to indicate that he was innerly upset.

"I was thinking of a key role myself," he replied. We both stood stone-still opposite each other. He crossed his arms. The two halves of my brain were fighting it out. One side was almost repelled by the power of attraction this man was exercising on me although he was doing nothing more than holding his arms in front of his chest. My rational side, on the other hand, was alerting me that his gesture was not a good sign in terms of body language. My brain was being short-circuited by the never-ending exchange of blows.

'You're just going to take that? Can't you see he's making fun of you? Either you wake up or you're going to miss your chance!'

"We should get back to the hotel. It's getting cold," I quickly replied and started to direct my footsteps to turn away from him. But the side of my body that I wanted to turn away did all but refuse to accept the command. After a few steps, I stopped. My gaze wandered to the impressive landscape. It seemed suddenly repulsively barren in my eyes. He didn't move at all and I could sense him looking at me from behind. All of a sudden, incredible loneliness had me in its grip, just as if I were separated from the rest of humanity. My mind continued to rage on, this time about having simply walked away instead of being open to the flirt. The situation became more and more absurd and was now just too much for me. I was twenty-six years old – and not sixteen! At a loss, my gaze focused on the landscape which was becoming increasingly unrealistic. Dammit! I had to come back to my senses! My pulse and the many thousands of spheres immediately became excited. Meanwhile, I didn't hear him, I _felt_ him coming closer. He came up behind me and lightly grabbed my shoulder. My knees sank for a short moment.

"What wrong with you? You didn't injure yourself earlier, did you?

My breathing stopped, but I kept my composure and turned around.

"No, of course not..." I brushed my hair back which had been messed up by the swirling wind. "Everything's fine. Thanks for asking. I just have to get back to the hotel."

"Is someone waiting for you?" he asked, almost too rashly.

I cleared my throat in a restrained manner and noticed how wet my skin still was.

"No, unfortunately not. I just have to work a little still."

"In the evening?"

"Yes."

He looked at me, questioningly, and I slowly began to move forward again. He followed me.

'Be a little bit more open!' a voice inside me urged.

"Well, I write you see..."

I looked up, but as soon as my eyes met his, the state of excitation in my body began to manifest itself anew.

I quickly looked straight ahead. The hotel was already within sight. I perceived this as pure bliss, since once I was there, I would be safe.

"Are you here to work?" he asked.

"Yes. And you?"

"It's a wonderful setting."

He looked out into the vastness of the landscape. My eyes followed his.

"It is almost unreal."

Suddenly, he shifted the focus of his gaze to me. I also dared to meet it and looked up.

"Absolutely."

Again, I wasn't sure what he was referring to. I looked at the grooves near the corners of his eyes and nodded shyly. We started to look ahead and continued walking from that point on in mutual silence. The spheres wandered out above my head, over to his, and back again. I was sure of it - something like this only happened in movies.

Once in the lobby, we both silently stepped up to the reception desk and asked for our room keys. Now it was time to find the right direction to go in within the extensively developed hotel.

"Which wing are you residing in?" I surprisingly broke the silence.

"In the west one."

He played with his room key. I held mine tightly.

"Oh, the west one?"

"Yes."

He unzipped his jacket. My fascinated eyes followed every detail. My abdomen did a somersault and then rejoined my body. He shouldn't have done that with the jacket. A silly kind of laugh escaped my mouth. He suddenly smiled too. I thought that this situation was beginning to be more and more like a scene in a bad movie, which wouldn't have gotten much more than a disdainful smile from me if I were watching it. But, something like this really did exist, apparently.

"Are you in the hotel tomorrow evening?" he disrupted my chain of thought.

"Yes, I'm staying a few days," I answered and bashfully looked at my own fingernails.

"I would like to see you again. May I invite you?

"Yes, anytime."

"Then tomorrow. At 8 p.m. here in the lobby?"

"My pleasure. Shall we? We have to go in the same direction. I'm staying in the west wing too."

He seemed pleased that we could still be together for a short time – or was I imagining this all? I started off for my room so as to soon escape the pull of his body. He followed me in silence and with an attentive gaze until we reached my room. As I stopped at my room door, we suddenly stood facing each other once again.

"Well then, so..." I stammered and wanted to insert the key in the lock, failing miserably. He observed my helpless attempt and I felt as if he mercilessly saw through me.

"Can I help?" he asked politely, nonetheless.

"No, that's alright," I quickly replied and was relieved to feel that the key was finally moving in the lock. "OK, then. See you tomorrow evening."

"It will surely be interesting..." he said and gave me a charming smile.

"Yes, it will be indeed," I said goodbye in an unnaturally shy manner. As soon as the door had given way under the pressure I applied, I slipped in and closed it behind me swiftly, to then stand with my back pressed against it, listening to my heartbeat, stunned. I could sense how he remained in front of my door for a few seconds. This time it had nothing to do with having too much mountain air or too many drinks at the bar. This time it was simply something for which I had to find a completely new name. In me there was an unfamiliar feeling of absoluteness and void. What to do now? I looked up to the ceiling. Above and to the left, a small gecko was resting. I wished I could have met with him up there for a chat. The place where he sat seemed to me to be the most understandable in the world: High up and upside down. I went into the adjoining bathroom and looked at my face in the mirror. I was not so shocked by my face, since it was no surprise that the expression awaiting me would be one fully unknown to me. My pupils constantly changed their focus from far to near. I was overcome by the feeling that my vision had become blurry. My complexion was pale and my hands clung to the edge of the sink. Loathing this condition, I opened my hands almost violently and drummed with my fingernails on the sink's enamel. On the inside, however, I remained unprecedentedly shaken. I had never taken notice of Daniel Arnault. I had to smile for a moment. Actually, I also could have cried.

'Too excited!' my right brain succinctly thought.

I turned on the faucet and began to splash cold water on my face. It didn't bring me back down to earth and I had to admit to myself that I didn't know any remedy that could help me change this kind of _state_.

The next morning I woke up very early. I was able to tell by the bright, unreal light coming into my room. I sighed and turned over onto my back. Throughout the whole night, the hotel seemed to be full of ghosts which in a strange round dance had produced outlandish dreams complete with mysterious mythical creatures. They seemed so real to me, it was as if the mountainous landscape was really telling me its strange secrets. But these were, of course, all just figments of my imagination. Just like my encounter yesterday with Daniel Arnault too? I sat up and pushed the blanket off of me. My gaze wandered to the display of my alarm clock. It was ten after six and suddenly I heard voices from outside reach my ear.

"Yes, of course!" I said aloud, as if I somehow knew. "They're leaving now!"

I stood up and moved the curtain of the window a little to the side. I saw two jeeps that were just starting up. I was sure of which one he was sitting in. With an unnatural workmanlike manner, I observed my own abstract thoughts. I had never sensed such a strong a connection to another person before. Of course, I had already quite often fallen in love spontaneously and stumbled into a relationship enthusiastically, but what was going on now, was unknown to me in this form. The startling thing was that I couldn't say why this encounter had such an unequivocally different effect on me compared to any of the ones before. Did it, perhaps, really have something to do with his _status_? I looked within myself. And harvested a gaping persistent silence. His status didn't matter to me. I looked at the ceiling again. The gecko had disappeared. Who could I turn to now? I sat back down on the bed. My lightly tanned knees provided a respectable contrast to the white covers. So, it wasn't my imagination. I had a date tonight with an actor with whom surely thousands and thousands of women wanted to spend an evening with and he absurdly asks me to do just that. Why did he? What did he want? And what in the world was going on with me? Why were my journalistic diligence along with my so carefully made-up "story" orbiting the earth at a now estimated 3000 light years away from me and had been replaced by an army of uncontrollable spheres, which continually gathered below my belly button? It seemed to me as if I had landed in the middle of an unknown experiment - selected as a sort of guinea pig. I had to be careful. I almost became afraid when I saw how the old Rosalie fell to pieces before my eyes and nothing was left of her. Distraught, I admitted to myself that I really wanted this man. More and more. So I tentatively tried to get things back under control during this morning. I would have to do something completely different. I had to get out of this _state_ – win the upper hand again. I had to tend to my work, contact the women's rights organization, select a next topic from my list, sit down at my laptop and inform my sister about my change of hotels – not think about what might have happened if she had called the Broadway and I wasn't there. I didn't put anything past her, even spontaneously reporting me as missing! I would have to skype with her! Determined, I went to the small desk and turned on the computer. My gaze fixated on the screen. For a long time. I typed in the name of the women's rights organization and stared at the telephone number. For a long time. I laid down on my bed with my legs pulled close to my body. For a long time. I just stared at the white sheet and wondered about the feeling of emptiness in my body – for a long time. Around 12 o'clock, I finally got in contact with the Jogini initiative group, but couldn't speak with anyone who was able to speak English well enough. I was assured that someone would be there the next day at 2 p.m., a "specialist". I thanked them politely and hung up. Tomorrow at 2 p.m. A long time. My stomach growled and had been doing so since last evening. I would finally have to eat something, even if the thought of a full meal nearly made my stomach turn. After I had sent my sister a short message, I went to the hotel restaurant with its much praised cuisine. Once there, I found myself to be the only guest. I sat down and ordered two stuffed pastries with vegetable filling. As I waited for the food, I looked around. The interior starkly resembled the setting of a James Bond movie from the seventies and was, in keeping with tradition, also run-down. The brown seat covers of the square stools were shabby, the dark wood of the armrests, worn. The tablecloths had scuffed edges and small holes. The oval floor lamps were still real originals from another time period. However, these flaws combined together somehow created a pleasing atmosphere. The large panorama window made it possible to see a breathtaking blue sky above the mountains. Daniel Arnault was right: It was a wonderful _setting_. I decided to go out into these formations again. Maybe it would bring my feeling of everything being so unreal here back to a normal level. The fresh air would certainly do me some good. When I had arduously finished eating the small amount on my plate, I got up and wandered out into the landscape and didn't come back for many hours.

I strolled through incredible formations. A whole world of green forests and gray stone opened its gates to me. It was punctuated with small paths and narrow waterfalls, which must have been created by the melting snow of the peaks. I almost got lost but then a pointed cliff sticking out helped me keep my bearings. There was an atmosphere of freedom, but yet something strangely oppressive emanated from it. A contradiction in itself. On my way, I suddenly discovered a small almost hidden stairway, which led directly to the center of a large stone formation. Someone must have gone to some trouble to carve out the uneven steps in the stone. Carefully, I climbed up the tiny steps and looked into a medium-sized opening out of which bright daylight entered into the inside of the formation. After reaching it, a thousand meter deep chasm revealed itself right in front of me – and a world which took my breath away. Directly behind the wall of the formation, my gaze fell upon a seemingly endless expanse, interspersed with hills, valleys and rivers which lied in the middle of the rock massifs. I sat down slowly to take in this phenomenal view. At that moment, the feeling crept over me of having actually reached the roof of the world. And there I remained. For a long time.

It was just after half past six clock when I arrived back at the hotel and realized that there wasn't much time left until my appointment. My amazing adventures in the last few hours had managed to blur the impression Daniel Arnault had left on me, but now I kept fidgeting nervously with my feet whenever I thought about our impending engagement. Something in me got angry about my uncontrollable states.

'What kind of an idiot are you making of yourself here? Stop playing the fool! Why are you humbling yourself in front of some actor? Where is your pride?' my rational side scolded me sternly. I went to the mirror in the bathroom and my eyes looked at me with a certain steeliness.

"Starting now, you're going to get your act together!" I said loudly and focused my own pupils. I wanted to be independent of this roller coaster! And it would be up to me alone to free myself from these feelings. I was indeed acting like my little sister – completely impulsive. I bent down and let hot water into the bathtub. From now on my willful ignorance would be the victor. Let the spheres do what they may! As my body bathed in the warm water, my rational side finally won and took over as director of my mind. I was very grateful for this and when I was drying myself off, I went over the fundamental points, apparently very sure of myself: I was mature, no slave of fate and I would in no way become the victim of some fleeting illusion. Quite the contrary: I would make lucid use of my chance because my future was at stake here. I would concentrate on what I could charm out of this man and maybe even score an official interview! Who knows? Maybe he would open his house to me or a report about him on this oversized golf course would be the result. Him with the club in his hand, me with my brandished camera taking his picture. Both of us flirting. And even if everything didn't go as planned, I didn't need to worry about it, because what were all of the topics diligently listed in my notes which had nothing to do with Daniel Arnault for anyway? What had possessed me to become so involved with this movie project anyway? What was I doing at their doorstep? What did I care about their shooting? Wasn't I from a self-reliant – a higher niveau? I'd book this evening as an interesting experience, flirt with him a little and see what happens. That would most certainly be it! Then I would move straight back to the city or go to Ladhak to have a look around at a Buddhist monastery – for the readers interested in spirituality!

I put the hair dryer back into the holder designed for it and went to the wardrobe. I carefully selected one of the silk dresses and got dressed. I put on a little makeup. My gaze fell upon the clock. 8:08 p.m. Oh – my limbs shuddered – hurry! Hastily, I wrapped my scarf around me and looked in the mirror one more time real fast. I was surprised by what a saw there: It was extremely attractive, almost foreign to me: So tall, brunette, with beautiful shiny hair and a ruby red dress made of pure silk. My hand firmly around the doorknob, I saw the Buddhist chain of pearls laying on the nightstand. I knew that in Buddhism it represented a symbol of life and something in me urged me to take it with me. I quickly ran there and grabbed it. What good it was going to do, was a complete mystery to me, but the thought of having it with me in this confusing situation gave me a feeling of security. Since I didn't have a purse, I spontaneously stuck the chain in my bra, closed the room door quietly and headed for the lobby.

Once there, there was no one to be seen, except for the hotel staff who looked at me with tired expressions. I sat down in a square antique lime green chair. My ears listened to the beating of my heart. The spheres ran uncontrollably in the direction of the west wing. I knew that he was in the hotel. I sat motionless, staring at a small worn spot on the colorful woven Persian rug that lay beneath my feet. While I was sitting this way, I suddenly felt _it_ coming. It was very near. I looked up and saw him coming towards me. He was wearing a slim-fitting suit of lightweight summer fabric and appeared to be of an imposing height. In his movements was something I had never seen any other man possess, for his body seemed to be carried by a unique nimbleness. To me it seemed as if an otherworldly elegance had borrowed this body in order to present itself better. He and it; they made up one unit that steadily moved forward, coming directly to me. My autonomic nervous system reacted immediately and I got up a little too quickly, almost as if I wanted to fend off this impression.

'Get it together!' one of the halves of my brain screamed at me. So I went towards him with a smile. He seemed relaxed and looked into my eyes. This time I didn't look away. I was surprised that the orange dots had changed their position since yesterday.

'Like stars!' I thought, detached.

We stood facing each other and I felt tenser than I had during my very first date. In the meantime, the spheres accomplished a real work of art: Quiet and consistently, they glided from my body into his and began their interplay.

"Thanks that you waited for me!" He almost sounded relieved. "We still had one more meeting and thought you might have lost your patience."

"Oh..." I smiled at him. "I have to admit, I wasn't on time either and usually my taxi always arrives at my appointments too late!"

He looked happy.

"You must be dying of hunger..."

"Well..." I thought of a host of other possible things to do, but I heard myself give a well-behaved answer. "Well, yes... a little."

My spirits nodded quietly and contentedly within me. Maybe it might actually lead to a normal flirt and the weakening of this silliness which had overtaken me. The odds looked good, all of my becalmed higher instances confirmed.

"I'll call for a taxi," he said.

We went to the reception desk and he consulted the employees. It hit me with full-force and I was totally unprepared as I saw how the fabric of his jacket stretched tight across his athletic back and I realized that I had to have him above me – precisely this body and no other. I became nervous. I looked off to the side. I couldn't help but keep looking at him again and again. _It_ wouldn't let me go. As he turned around to face me again, I quickly looked down at the floor.

"I'm sorry, but I completely forgot to ask you: You don't mind if we go to the city?"

"No, I have nothing against it," I smiled and noticed how I began to start breathing again. "Do you know your way around the city?" I further asked to stabilize the situation. He looked at me with a look in his eyes that I didn't know how to interpret and answered:

"No, not in the city."

I was a little startled when he laid his hand on my arm to lead me in the direction of the exit. The spheres – they went wild.

"I'm very pleased that you have taken the time to explore the city with me tonight," he continued to talk. His voice sounded well-tempered. It didn't have the exaggeration or volume I had often registered in the voices of others in his profession. The expression of his was simply natural and very pleasant. We stepped out into the cool evening air. He smiled in friendly manner down at me. Despite my tall high heels, he was easily almost ten centimeters taller than me. We stood facing and looking at each other with a certain detached amazement. The expression in his eyes elicited a very specific kind of nervousness in me. A light breeze blew a few of my long hair strands into my face. With an impulsive gesture, his hand rose up but froze in mid-motion. It was just like the day before. I had the impression that he would have liked to touch me. But nothing happened.

'That is just a construct of your overactive imagination,' a voice from within me said and I brushed the strands of hair away with a decisive gesture. His body turned away from me toward the scenery, almost as if he had to control something within him.

'You see, it can't all be just in my head,' proclaimed my irrationality triumphantly and unrestrained.

"An Afghan restaurant was recommended to me," he said, breaking the silence that had ensued.

"That's surely an excellent choice," I answered, timidly.

"Yes, I think so too."

All of a sudden I wasn't sure if he meant the restaurant, even though he also seemed rather reserved and shy to me. These were states which were also not at all foreign to me in his presence.

"I've heard that Afghan cuisine is very interesting," I started in, politely.

"Not as interesting as our having met," he replied, straightforwardly. He seemed to be no friend of indirect complements. And, essentially, I wasn't either. So I gathered all of my courage when I asked:

"Have you found out now who I remind you of?"

He smiled resignedly and briefly looked down at the ground, to then focus frontally in on me.

"Yes. I thought about it," he slowly answered. "And I came to the conclusion that you remind of a person I always wanted to meet."

I laughed uneasily. He seemed to seriously mean what he was saying.

"Oh, then we'll have to see whether I'm anything like what you think."

With an almost hasty movement, he laid his hand on my lower arm. The spheres within me raced like a hurricane to him.

"I don't have any preconceived notion of how you should be," I heard him say with conviction. "I will be just as surprised as you. But I am expecting an extremely nice experience."

I sensed that I began to blush and scraped at the sandy ground with my shoe. An irregular heartbeat resounded in my ears. To my relief, the taxi came up the driveway at this very moment. Politely, he opened the door for me and handed the driver the restaurant's card. We sat next to each other for the first time in the back seat's narrow space. His hand rested, stretched out on the cool leather seat next to me. As I observed it, my spirits automatically envisioned it gliding over my body. Despite the warm temperature, a shiver ran through me.

"You don't use any perfume?" he asked, directly.

I was fully perplexed and looked at him, almost amused.

"Yes, that's right. I seldom use any. Why?"

"I don't know." He ran a hand over his eyes and shook his head slightly. He had dimples. He seemed embarrassed. The suction that was emanating from him became stronger.

"Please forgive me. I didn't wish to offend you..." he stared at the back of the driver's seat in front of him. "...what I wanted to express was that I find that very pleasing."

My God, what did this man keep saying to me?

"So, a compliment!" I sputtered out with a nervous laugh.

"Yes...definitely." His facial features relaxed.

"Well, then...thank you very much." I smiled at him encouragingly, but when he didn't stop looking in my eyes, my eyelids sank rapidly. The air in the small cabin seemed to be running out. I made a nervous movement and my gaze fell directly upon his thigh. The outline of his muscles could be easily seen through the lightweight fabric and was very alluring. Like a raging animal, the thousands of small spheres plunged into it and shortly afterward shot back into my body. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw how he laid his hand on the place on his leg where the spheres had entered.

'He can feel them too!' I thought with self-evidence, which just yesterday would have seemed to me to be the mindset of a mentally ill person. Now it fit perfectly to the unreal situation. I turned away and looked out the window. Distraught, I noticed how tense my muscles were all over the body. The taxi bounced down the uneven street until the driver brought the car to a screeching halt immediately and without warning. With a violent jerk, we fell forward together. A, perhaps, eleven year old boy on a motorcycle had raced straight across the road and disappeared into the darkness. Still recovering from the jolt, I saw our hands which had quickly reacted and placed themselves on the back of the front seat to brace us for impact. Our finger tips were only a few millimeters apart on the leather, our eyes met and something inevitable happened. Time began to drip in slow-moving seconds until it finally came to a standstill.

"What's your name?" he asked hesitantly.

"Rosalie."

"I knew it."

The tension between us seemed to burst. Out of another world I heard the taxi driver cursing and I realized that we had started moving again. My heart seemed to be beating slowly, even though I heard it pounding frantically. Full of inner tension, I bit my lip hard. I and my _state_ were all too aware of one fact. There was no way I could go to a restaurant. There was only one thing I had to do: Sleep with this man.

"Listen....." My voice sounded hoarse. "I...well, I can't..."

He grabbed my shoulder and pushed me back against the seat with one hand. The spheres sped through my organism in waves. They reached a new level of intensity. I heard his voice calmly state:

"Listen, I won't be able to go to a restaurant with you."

While he spoke, I felt his hand, still resting heavily on my shoulder. The spheres in the middle of my body began to burst one by one.

"I'm sorry, but...it's out of the question."

With a slow movement, he took his hand away. I nodded my head slightly and laughed awkwardly, while I stared off into space for a few further moments. I felt how his gaze never left me. Slowly, I leaned forward towards the driver and told him in his native tongue to take us to the 'Grand Oriental' hotel. I still knew it from my research on Srinagar and it couldn't be too far away since we were already nearing the city center. His hand pulled me back in the seat and assertively moved down, touching my throat. I wasn't able to look at him and looked only at my knees and began breathing rapidly. What in God's name had I done?!... In that moment, I sensed how he leaned towards me, his lips remaining just a few millimeters from my skin. I felt his breath on my cheek and the bursting spheres turning into little explosions. With his fingertips he turned my face towards his. I looked directly into his green and orange colored pupils and a sound unknown to me mixed in with my breath.

"You're beautiful, Rosalie", he said and laid his palm on my collarbone gently. Flustered, I put my hand on his and shook my head.

"I'm sorry. But...I can't control this."

He nodded slightly and his body slowly leaned back into the seat cushion. Our hands fell down and laid there motionless.

"What...what is this?" I asked quietly.

"Desire," he answered, seemingly minutes later. I turned away and looked out of the window of the car, exhilarated. I felt how the spheres gathered together in my abdomen. Whether any of this could be real or not, it was happening nonetheless. The taxi stopped. He gave the driver thousands of rupees too many. It didn't bother any of us. We got out of our respective doors and met back together in front of the entrance to the hotel. I knew I was about to go a long journey and arrive home. We entered the lobby of the four star hotel. Removed, I heard how he spoke to the receptionist: Yes, the suite was still available. No, the luggage didn't need to be taken care of. Of course, no page would accompany us, just as we wished. Door 803, eighth floor. We signed as Mr. and Mrs. Arnault. Then we got in the elevator. In the fully mirrored walls of the elevator our eyes met and pulled each other into a state of inner excitement. I looked at the slightly open collar of his shirt and saw that the moist skin at his Adam's apple was shimmering. I wanted to _touch_ him. I sensed how a bead of sweat ran down my temple. He looked at me. His finger ran over my cheek and caught the running drop with a skillful movement. He looked at the liquid briefly before guiding it to his lips while he fixed his gaze on me in the mirror. He smiled. For a moment, I closed my eyes and breathed. As soon as I opened them again, I saw my pupils reflected in the walls. They were as big as sand dollars. The door of the elevator opened and his hand enveloped my elbow. I followed his movements so exactly that our shadows in the hallways merged into one. A new rhythm had taken hold and wouldn't let me go again. Once at the door to our room, we entered one by one. I heard how the door closed behind us and I turned to him. I was about to go crazy. That something else would happen seemed impossible.

"I..." overly aroused, I began a sentence which even I myself didn't know the ending of.

"Come!" he interrupted me and approached me. He laid his fingertips on my lips. In disbelief, I noticed how I immediately began to nuzzle them. My eyelids closed. His hand ran through my hair and pulled me closer to his seductive inviting lips. They touched me gently and carefully, almost like a breath of wind and each touch was perfect. Reflexively, my body pressed against his. I felt like a puppet, controlled remotely by immense sensuality. My lips reacted impatiently until all at once a smile came over them. With difficulty, I opened my eyes and found myself looking into a clear orange. It affected me with an irresistible pull. He knew what he was doing. With calm movements, he opened the zipper of my dress and pushed it over my hips.

"Slowly ..." he said softly, adamantly touching my exposed skin.

"I...I can't..." I stammered helplessly. His hands, they had a power that took my breath away. I had known how they would feel. I knew that they knew the secret of how to make a woman out of a female being. And my premonition was confirming itself. My entire body was taken over by the fact that this was no dream. He knew how to play with me just right and gained more and more power over me. I knew that I couldn't escape him. And I didn't want to either. My palms laid themselves on the thin fabric of his shirt and felt the contours that were hidden underneath. From that moment on, I completely lost control.

"Take that off", I demanded breathlessly and, in a daze, reached for his belt, frantically opened the buttons of his shirt and tasted his skin. The way he smelled caused tiny spasms to ecstatically run through my body. "Touch me...your hands...they know how to do _it_. You are..."

"...beautiful." his voice penetrated my ear. His lips wandered down the side of my throat and made their way on a long trip. I felt his intention on every centimeter of my skin. And gave in to it. He was my revelation. My desire. My Grail.

"Don't make me wait...please come with me", I implored, impassioned beyond belief, as our bodies sank to floor and I began to lose all inhibition. I wanted to have him. Now. Right now. He smiled at me almost imperceptibly, grabbed my hair, held me firmly embraced and entered me. My fingernails latched onto his back. I screamed. There was no going back. It was too overpowering.

I laid still on my side and listened to my heavy breathing. I felt the blanket under me and my wet strands of hair that ran down over my face onto my body. We had arrived in the suite's king size bed. He rested directly across from me. His hand moved forward and touched my chest fleetingly. Reflexively, my body contracted. He guided his hand gently away and remained motionless on the sheet in front of me. In the dim light of the room, I watched as his abdomen lifted and lowered. His skin appeared velvety, his body so beautiful, like a Roman statue. I could have touched him right away again if I wouldn't have felt so exhausted.

"Where are you from?" I heard him ask.

I moved my head slightly and removed the damp strands from my face with slow movements.

"What do you mean?" I asked back in slow motion. "I live in Munich, if that's what you mean..."

He gave me a tired smile.

"Oh, Munich... they have good beer there." He paused for a moment. "Every time I'm in the city, I drink too much of it. The Hofbrauhaus... -well, you know."

"You couldn't have drunk too much. You were always already gone when I arrived."

I gave him a slight smile. Interested, he turned at once and fixed his gaze upon me. Its expression was complex. The orange harmonized with a gray-green. It looked beautiful – penetrating, covetous, intent and exhausted at the same time. But above all these facets, there seemed to be one pressing question.

"You're real?" he soon asked.

"Maybe we're just dreaming," I answered cryptically. Before I knew it, he pushed me onto my back. I followed his every movement unconditionally.

"I was being serious..." he said with a forcefulness, which left me looking up at him, confused.

"What exactly do you want to know?" I asked, focused. He was silent for a short time.

"Rosalie..." His voice accentuated my name in such a way that it remained hanging in the air. I listened.

"Yes....?"

"I had to think about our encounter for a long time yesterday. For me it was all quite...overwhelming. I wondered what your name could be and I came to the conclusion that it would have to sound like the name of a beautiful flower."

I looked at him in disbelief, but he eluded me, his eyes following the unknown lines that his fingertips were drawing on my skin.

"I don't know you," he hesitated briefly. "Can I trust you?"

His movements stopped abruptly. All of my hairs stood on end. I swallowed. His pupils focused on me, unwavering. Suddenly, I was reminded of my less pure intentions. I was angry with myself: How could I be so foolish as to not know who this man could be to me? In silence, I was overcome by shame for all of the perfidious undertakings I had contemplated. My hand reached for him and I wanted to pull him down to me to kiss him and make up for all of it. But it never came to that. Resolute, he grabbed my wrist and held my arm down firmly on the sheet. I sighed. He had the unique gift of being able to touch my body with a level of certainty I hadn't sensed in any other man before. There were gestures which caused me from one moment to the next to only want one thing: to follow them, to be his. My eyelids twitched as his demanding gaze stayed locked on me.

"You have to look me in the eyes. Then you can see it," I whispered and gave him a gentle smile. Our pupils met and intertwined – for what seemed like hours. It was clear that something was happening now that was outside of our intellect's jurisdiction. After some minutes his search ended in a smile. In his upper back row of teeth, two very irregularly grown teeth revealed themselves. This characteristic had remained hidden to me until now and I found it suited him quite well. All at once I felt relaxed and relieved. My index finger traced his eyebrows as his lips drifted toward me. I closed my eyes. They were lips which were made for the sole purpose of making me happy. I suddenly knew that it would be good. Very good in fact. When he released me, his gaze was clear and alert.

"We haven't really gotten around to talking to each other yet..." He smiled charmingly. "I would like to know more about you. Not just how your skin smells. What are you doing in this area?"

I rolled over onto my stomach, propped myself up with my elbows and bended my knees. I met his gaze attentively.

"I portray the region. Predominantly for European magazines. Nothing too political, no 'Azad Kashmir', or anything like that. It has solely to do with the attractiveness of the tourist region – in this case, for high earners."

"You're a journalist?!" he asked in disbelief.

"Yes..." I began to laugh. "Yes, I'm a journalist. And this job here is my first transcontinental coverage. I have gathered a lot of topics and will work them off one by one here. The region has a lot to offer."

He stared into my eyes and observed me quietly for a while.

"What exactly do you report on?" he eventually wanted to know.

"Basically on everything I've researched and all of the new topics that I come across on site. And by that, I don't mean tabloid material, in case you're worried about that." I gave him a quick side-glance. "I want to use this stay to collect as much material as possible. So I'm drawing from a diverse range of topic categories. The monasteries, the hotels, controversial topics, such as the Joginis, for example..." I came to a close and secretly took joy in the way I had elegantly made a transition. Even he seemed to relax.

"Joginis? What's that? I've never heard of it."

He leaned back and the orange in his eyes waited with interest on an answer.

"It has something to do with the Hindu religion and indirectly with prostitution. Depending on how you look at it..."

"So which one is it now, Hinduism or prostitution that you're covering?" he asked amused.

"The issue is complex. But I can imagine that it will be well accepted by Western readers because.... "

And so I began to tell him in detail of the ancient Hindu custom which had little girls from the lower caste selected to become sex slaves by rural priests.

"For the family, a Jogini is a great honor. You really have to see it as a kind of canonization. For the chosen girls, however, the future is not nearly as glorious: Once they are sexually mature, their destiny is limited only to performing sexual favors for any man in the village. Any of the village men may have sexual intercourse with her and she survives solely on the handouts of her visitors. A procedure hardly imaginable in our society. There is a human rights group which is working to have this custom abolished. Tomorrow I'll be able reach a suitable contact person of theirs."

"And how does this life end? What becomes of them?" His eyes looked at me soberly.

"You mean when they are no longer sexually attractive?" I asked. He nodded.

"Then it looks pretty bleak. When poverty sets in, it can often take on bizarre forms. Ideally, they live off of their children. However, it must be mentioned that the female offspring inherit the status of Jogini. And so the vicious cycle begins anew. All in all, not a very pleasant topic."

"There are indeed some very strange customs in other cultures. Hinduism is like a book with seven seals to me, as unfathomable as its host of gods." He began to play with strands of my hair. "Still it's a fascinating story, I agree with you. It would also make a fantastic screenplay. Only it would be too difficult for the international market, since only Indian actors would be in it..."

"Why's that? Not necessarily..." I countered him, excited. "Screenplays are a relatively pliable medium. You can make almost anything work to your advantage in them. For example, what about a foreign girl who was kidnapped as a baby...or a woman who in the last second is denied having the child she wished to adopt because a Hindu priest has just determined that it is the new Jogini. And then this woman becomes an activist. Something like that...You just have to think about it for a while, then you'll certainly come up with a fitting story."

"You don't seem to need a long time to think about it..." His eyes were fixed on me with apparent appraisal. "Have you ever thought about changing genres?"

"Why, certainly," I gave a faint smile. "Actually, I've changed more than a few times. I'm not really suited for serving only one sector permanently. Life as a member of an editorial staff is not for me. I already found that out after my first internship and I am always looking for an area in which I can develop more freely. So I finally started doing travel reports, since in this profession no one can tell me: 'you'll just have to go there yourself then,' I came to a somewhat sarcastic close.

"I understand," he nodded in agreement. "And you want to do this forever now, because it gives you freedom?"

"No..." I shook my head resolutely. "That's not the case either. I'm of the opinion that things do indeed develop step by step and that the next sector could allow much more creativity. In my current one, I just report on events and fine-tune it for the target customer... - nothing more goes on than that."

"Maybe I should introduce you to a few interesting contacts." He suddenly offered.

"Well, that's not the way I meant that," I replied, irritated.

"I'm not so tight-lipped when it comes to that," he confidently continued. "On the contrary, I think that even a lot more people ought to be brought together who have the potential of complementing each other. If it's only built on an illusion or there's a lack of talent or discipline, it will fall apart on its own quickly enough and usually without harming anyone. As for me, I don't look at it in such a complicated manner."

I was amazed. He appeared to me to be a generous person, and I was ashamed once again by the impure intentions I had harbored.

"An unusual attitude," I attested. "Most people are ruled by the fear that someone could steal the show from them. So there's usually not much progress. Or everything moves much slower, at the least."

He looked at me with great interest and put his hand on my arm. His touch caused my heart to skip a beat. I turned to him and listened intently as he answered.

"Since, personally, I haven't got any talent at all when it comes to writing, I'm not able to recognize any competition..."

"Yes," I laughed nervously. "You have to know what you're talented in and what not. That's a prerequisite. But I truly believe that you can pick up certain things much faster if they aren't forced upon you by someone else. I don't believe in boundaries..."

He was silent. His eyes turned to meet mine.

"And I think you're an extremely intelligent person. I am seldom wrong. Even if every now and then it does happen. He smiled, charmingly, but his eyes remained serious. "I want to find out who you are. All of this has happened quite unconventionally, but you don't seem to have any problem with it."

"I don't usually make a habit of sleeping with man I hardly know, but earlier... – I mean yesterday...something..."

I paused. All at once I had the feeling as if I was about to say too much about something that was unknown to me. His gaze followed me with interest. When he didn't stop looking into my eyes, I reacted shyly. Normally I was anything but.

"This attraction of bodies to each other..." he finally said, "...you know, I don't believe that it can work without an inner equivalence. At least not in the way it just did. I want to spend time with you, but all of my days are meticulously planned. Have you ever been on a movie set?"

I had to laugh as I remembered.

"Yes I have, as a matter of fact. On several to be precise. However, these were just experiments during my youth. We shot the films ourselves and also provided the scripts at the same time. My friend and I got so involved in it that we even talked real camera men into working for us for free. Of course we also had a professional lighting technician and even my friend's rabbit was stylistically used in a scene. Our project really gave us an emotional high..."

He smiled indulgently.

"What was the subject matter?"

"We gave the work the title: 'Of Humans and Bloodsuckers'," I told him and raised my shoulders in an apologetic manner. "We were 14 years old and we weren't referring to politicians, but real vampires."

"A first class and, in the meantime, very successful theme."

"Yes. Unfortunately, it has never been shown in the theaters of this world." I snickered, amused by the thought. "Maybe we were a little ahead of our time...."

"Then maybe you could learn something before your next attempt...." his eyes looked at me searchingly.

"You want me to go along with you? I'd love to. I already found our shooting back then to be very interesting..." I joked, freely.

"So, you'd like a change of scenery?" he propped himself up with his forearm and leaned slightly towards me. The orange of his pupils seemed to revolve around itself, while his green steadily focused on me.

"Yes," I replied, hypnotized, while a strange feeling started spreading throughout my body.

"Well, I hope you're satisfied with the current situation...."

"I can't say...otherwise..."

His gaze seemed inviting. He was beautiful. My hand moved forward slowly and I laid my palm on his chest. A hot shiver ran through the inside of me. I immediately began to burn with arousal. It was impossible to escape him. I turned onto my back and pulled him with me. He willingly followed my movements. I watched how he closed his eyes. My heart was pounding so loudly as if it were about to explode. His lips made their way to my ear and I could feel his breath as I heard him whisper:

"The truth is... that I wasn't able talk to you before I had possessed your body. It's all just starting now. And it's happening over again right now." His lips traveled down the side of my neck.

"Do you feel it too?" I asked, out of breath, as I felt I was at the mercy of my consuming reactions.

"It's the way you smell. It's under your skin, And it lies deep within your eyes... - but I have seen it," he suddenly looked up, exhilarated, and kissed my shoulders while his hands traced the contours of my body. They wandered down to my hips and completely _encircled_ me.

"The way you do that...what you're doing... feels good," I whispered in his ear.

It didn't take long before the otherworldly energies which had controlled this room before for hours came knocking again. We willingly let them in. And this time they revealed their names to me: wildness, love and surrender. I had not experienced them in this form before, but they didn't leave a shadow of a doubt that they intended to get to know me better. _It_ moved out my body and came alive in his and vice versa. A parallel universe came into being and we were the only ones who were allowed to enter it. I began to breathe heavily. My gaze fell upon his skin which had a color and texture that must have been conceived in my wildest dreams. Never before on any other body did I perceive every single detail to be absolutely perfect. Undulating coils of energy twisted through my abdomen. I saw his skin, felt his rhythm and coveted his scent. I firmly pushed him back, sat up and encompassed this perfect body with my lips. He leaned back and grabbed my waist. He seemed to be able to shape my body as he pleased; he made it so alive and flexible, just like his. He and _it_ – they drove me out of my senses.

I awoke in the strange twilight of the new day. Squinting and in a daze, I looked around. A millisecond later, I was wide awake. I looked beside me and saw a body which looked as if it had gone through the Academy of Russian Ballet's vigorous training program. If I was correctly assessing the situation, then I must be awake. I felt an arm resting on across my hip. With my fingertips, I carefully touched it. It was in fact the same skin with which I had become acquainted during the night. My eyes focused in on the display of the digital clock. 6 1 1 it flashed towards me weakly. I had to smile. During our amorous play the evening before, the clock next to the bed had fallen off the nightstand and since then had only been able to display the time with a glitch. But it did have to be sometime shortly after six o'clock. I would have to wake him up, as I suspected he would have to be on the set before long. Almost in disbelief, my eyes briefly looked him over again. The thin sheets almost revealed his entire body. His proportions were perfect, the muscles well-developed, but not bulky. Even with his body at rest, you could see its potential flexibility and agility lying in wait. It was picture perfect. Secretly, I wondered if I was about to awaken from a much too lucid dream. But the image on my retina remained real and tangible. I sat up slowly and pushed his arm off of my lap. Carefully, I got out of the wide bed and noticed how his scent had mixed with mine. We had become one. Almost as much as during our lovemaking. I looked around. The living room of the suite was behind a wide door. With slow steps I made my way there. I was thirsty and assumed he would be too as soon as he woke up. I went to the bar and felt the unusually soft carpet beneath my feet. Plush seemed to be this hotel's specialty.

'You did a fine job in picking this hotel,' I joked to myself.

The bar, hidden behind rustic framed mirrors, gave me a glimpse of my own silhouette. My naturally slightly wavy hair had mutated into what looked like a large ball of yarn and I tried to straighten it out with my fingers. While doing it, I had to smile again. No one had managed to make such a mess of my hair before. Eventually, I filled two glasses with orange juice. I placed them on the provided tray and carefully lifted it up to carry it to the bed. Unexpectedly, I noticed how two arms surrounded me from behind. I was terribly startled and the tray fell, clanging as it landed back on the table. Orange juice swashed out onto the silver surface.

"There's no reason to be frightened," I heard his voice, right at my ear. "Surely nothing will happen to you...nothing that you don't want".

His body pressed against me from behind. I smiled and leaned my head against his chest. My eyes closed as the pressure his body exerted on mine increased. He kissed my shoulder and his demanding hands slid over the surface of my skin. My body reacted with the same bewilderment as before. I had all but stopped breathing, drawing in air only at irregular intervals.

"You mustn't do that..." I stammered as my pulse began to race. But he didn't stop – quite the contrary. He reinforced his embrace and seemed to deeply breathe in my very essence.

"I've never met anyone who after one night still held a hidden promise for me. I knew it would be different with you and I wasn't wrong..." he whispered. I opened my eyes and my gaze met his in the mirror of the bar. I saw how he looked at my body and felt how his hands wandered further downwards. I knew something tremendous was about to happen to me.

"Daniel, stop...it...- it's too much..." I stammered helplessly.

"Yes, I know. Take it slow this time, Rosa...real slow," he provocatively whispered into my ear. He shouldn't have done that. It only had the opposite effect.

"Oh my God..." I moaned loudly and my body continued to follow the movements of his hands. He exerted more pressure and my whole state of being accelerated. There was nothing I could do. I felt the contractions coming. They came in waves and seemed to be even stronger than in the night before. I was being driven wild with delight. I cried. My fingernails bored into his forearm which was holding me firmly embraced. I needed some time to come back to my senses. Meanwhile, we were silent. His lips rested on my neck. I could feel how wet my skin was – and how gentle his touch. Dazed, I looked up and into his eyes in the bar's mirror. I think I would have been ashamed if any other man would have seen me like this, so uninhibited and vulnerable at the same time. But with him, everything was different. Slowly, I turned to him, held his head between my hands and gave him a very long and very soft kiss. I don't think I was the only one who was unconditionally happy. He grabbed me and picked me up to carry me back to the rumpled sheets of the bed.

"You know how to do it," I teased.

"We make a good team, don't we?"

He let me fall onto the sheets and sat down on the edge of the bed. He looked at the blinking display too. In the meantime it was 6:30. He began to search his pockets for his cell phone and, upon finding it, turned it on.

"I have to make a call. There's actually only one taboo on the set: Not showing up."

"Everyone is ready to go and waiting?" I suspected.

"You got it. And that can get really expensive, really fast. However...", he pressed with one hand on my thigh and with the fingers of his other the buttons of his phone, "this time there was absolutely no way to prevent it".

He smiled at me briefly. Then his call appeared to have been answered.

"Hello, it's me...Wright, I'm sorry but I can't make it to the set today."

After this sentence, his counterpart seemed to have quite a bit to say. Daniel got up and went to the living room of the suite.

"No, I'm not at the Pahalgam. I didn't make it back yesterday and I stayed overnight in Srinagar," I heard his muffled voice from the neighboring room. "Wright? Are you still there?"

For a while, there must have been no answer from the other end. But Wright was there. And after brief deliberation, seemed not to have been too pleased with the succinct explanation. Daniel came back into the bedroom nodding into the receiver and bringing me a glass of orange juice. He handed it to me while he was still waiting for his chance to reply.

"Listen. It's no cause for alarm. My indisposition is purely of a private nature..."

Again Daniel listened patiently to his opponent.

"No, she has nothing at all to do with it," he finally countered. "But it still doesn't change the fact that I need a day off today. Give me this one day and shoot the landscape scenes instead."

I bit my lower lip. I was sure Wright had alluded to Sachiko being responsible. He must have suspected that she had flown back to Srinagar on her own. I studied his profile and wondered to myself why I hadn't until now even thought about the fact that his ex-girlfriend had departed a mere 24 hours ago and he had so quickly afterward wanted to meet with me, a complete stranger. But something in me was sure that I didn't need to waste any time thinking about it.

"Wright, you know me. It's not like me to keep people waiting..."

His voice trailed off. Another objection must have been made on the other end. I took a swallow from the glass and continued to listen with interest. Daniel seemed to be growing impatient.

"Now cut it out Wright. I've been in the business long enough to know that I'm breaking one of the rules in my contract. I'll be on the set tomorrow. As according to plan. Just like always. Tell the others I had a stomach virus and am seeing a doctor. The rest is just between us. It will be back to business as usual tomorrow. I guarantee it."

Finally his body relaxed and he looked relieved. The solution seemed to have been found.

"Thank you. When should I be ready tomorrow? Oh, first at eight? Then I even got an extra hour!" He laughed out loud, apparently at a joke of the director's. "Great. Thanks. You're wonderful. See you tomorrow."

He turned off his phone and laid it aside. "Well, that's taken care of. Maybe you would like to take a shower with me?" he asked, looking at me.

"With you, anytime!" I smiled and let myself be pulled out of the wrinkled up sheets and taken to the bathroom.

I was in love – very in love. I definitely realized it when I ran my lathered hands over his back and regretted that I couldn't kiss him at the same time (damn soap!). I allowed my hands to glide to the front of his body and across his chest, but he didn't let me do any more than that. He grabbed for my hands turned around and shook his head with a gentle smile. I didn't exactly understand why, but had to simply accept it. However, it didn't seem to occupy his mind at all as he turned the water off and then handed me a large towel. I wrapped my body in it and wrung out my hair with my hands.

While we were having our wrinkled clothes from the day before ironed, I wrestled with my matted hair using the much too small hotel comb. When Daniel saw me, he sat down on the bed next to me, took the comb from me with a calm gesture and began the task of taming my hair for me. He did it with extreme patience and I couldn't help but have the impression that he was having a lot of fun doing it. Half a quarter of an hour had passed before he was able to run the comb fully through my hair.

"So, there we go..."

He threw the comb nonchalantly aside and stood up, seemingly uninterested. Surprised, I looked at him and it seemed to me as if he possessed the unique capability of devoting himself completely to something only to turn around and immediately forget about it. I hoped this was only the case with _things_ – and not people. In this case, me. However, this morning he gave me no cause for alarm, because when getting the clothes ironed turned into a nearly two hour long affair, he simply put his arm around me to lead me to the bed where we waited together. We hardly spoke to each other and rested next to each other with a naturalness which I found to be extraordinary. I had never felt so secure before – not even as a baby, I suspected. When we began to get dressed around noon to finally leave the hotel, a second phenomenon revealed itself, which also had a certain humorous side to it: Whenever we came too close to one another, there was a completely autonomously sustained tension between our bodies, which in the end made us have to keep a certain distance between ourselves. We had barely just become aware of this phenomenon, when our eyes met in mutual amazement – and in elation that the other was there. I was certain I wasn't deluding myself either. Once we were standing outside of the front of the hotel, I had a look around.

"What do we want to do?" I asked, looking at the large lake that lay before us in the bright sunshine. Everywhere, cars, bicycles, motorcycles and Tuk Tuks were speeding along between the numerous pedestrians. The lively goings-on in the city captured us again and had probably never taken a break in the meantime either.

"We'll begin where we left off yesterday and get a bite to eat. Are you feeling up to it?"

"For trying the excellent cuisine?"

Full of fascination, my eyes followed an Asian bicycle rider, whose vehicle seemed on the verge of breaking apart under the weight of cartons upon cartons stacked on it out of which live chicken heads were peeping. Then I felt how Daniel's finger slid under my chin and lifted it. Willingly, I followed his movements. He turned my head to face him, and I was amazed to realize that his orange was slightly shifting to the left in a circular motion. It moved slowly, but steadily.

"Yes, the excellent cuisine. But the one you chose..." a crater broke away and swirled around, "...it was really one of a kind and unexpectedly sweet". I felt how his hand sank downwards and stood somewhat paralyzed in front of him. "Do you have an idea of where we are?" he continued.

"Not really..." I shook my head. "Except that we are right in the middle of the city."

An ambiguous smile appeared in his eyes.

"That's what I was thinking too."

He turned towards the street and hailed a taxi. Immediately, one of the numerous drivers abruptly stopped his car. We got in and once again handed the Afghan restaurant's card to a taxi driver. I felt as if a scene of movie was starting over from the beginning. This time in daylight. Even his hand lay stretched out on a slightly worn leather seat again and I noticed that its attractiveness had grown exponentially overnight.

"Rosalie...." his fingertips moved touching the material of my dress in a barely noticeable manner. I looked at him and had the impression that he too was amused by the fact that we were back where we started again. "Will you let me know your full name now?"

Taken aback, I put my hand on my forehead. We hadn't had time for conventional things.

"Lepore," I answered, amused. "My last name is Lepore."

"Rosalie Lepore? That sounds Italian. Are you originally from Italy? That's why your hair is so beautiful..." he ran his hand briefly over the lower strands. "The first time I saw you, I wanted to touch it. It is like finely woven silk and I was barely able to resist it."

"Me too, which you've surely noticed in the meantime..." I replied cheerfully and my gaze wandered for a brief moment to the bustling activity in the streets which silently passed us by before I continued to speak. "No, I'm not Italian. I was born in Germany. The name goes back to my great-grandfather. He came from Galluccio, a small village near Naples. He was deported by the Nazis in 1943 and forced to work in a German munitions factory. They took him to the vicinity of a city called Augsburg, which is near Munich."

"Ah, yes, Augsburg! I am pretty familiar with Germany," he nodded. "What happened to him after the war?"

I looked up briefly. Maybe his first wife had been from the area...

"Most of the men from the village returned home after the war," I continued on. "But my grandfather fell in love with my grandmother instead. At the time she was managing a small boardinghouse. It must have been love at first sight."

The taxi came to an abrupt stop. His expression was one of latent wonder as he handed the driver the rupees.

"The latter seems to be a family tradition."

He opened the door and got out with smooth movements. It seemed he was being serious. I took a deep breath and followed him. He grabbed my forearm and led me to the restaurant, which from the outside could hardly be recognized as being such. Lush dark red draped curtains prevented a direct view in through the large windows. Going to such lengths to ensure privacy was the opposite of what one normally finds along the streets here. This must be the way of life of a celebrity – always on the outlook for somewhere offering privacy. Although it did seem that he could move about freely here, I couldn't be the judge of that: After all, there hadn't been many opportunities to roam about in public spaces with him yet.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, and it seemed as if he were alluding directly to his question from yesterday.

"More than I expected..." I said and my words seemed to me to carry a double-meaning. Daniel gave me a side-glance and opened the door to the restaurant. I think my answer pleased him. As we entered the interior of the spacious room, it was dark and cool. An impressive contrast to the glaring sunshine, out of which we had just stepped. The whole interior was decorated in the same dark red tone as the curtains and even the walls were covered with deep red fabrics. From one second to the next, it seemed as if we had entered a new world. And indeed: The dark blue carpet under our feet completed the wondrous feat, with its impressive woven design which strongly resembled the oriental night sky. I was impressed. 'Galaxies in his eyes and lying at my feet,' I pondered, transfigured, and looked back up. Eager waiters quickly approached us. Their dark blue suits were eye-catching due to the fine fabric they were made of which, even in the dim lighting, shone a little. I was sure they had to be made out of pure cashmere.

"Monsieur Arnault! Welcome, welcome! What can we do for you?"

Daniel apologized for us having not shown up the previous night and hoped, "to make good for it by being there now".

All of the waiters bowed as if it were a matter of course and directed us in a very friendly manner to a table. The restaurant was moderately busy and all eyes seemed to be on us for a short time. To my surprise, I found myself looking at guests from a diverse mix of cultures. Japanese, Chinese, Russians Norwegians and Brits were sitting in the restaurant. And now we were too. All of the people in the room could be classified as rich upper class. That much was obvious.

'The cream of the crop,' I thought, dry-witted, and sat down on the cushioned ruby-colored chair that the waiter pushed towards me. It almost perfectly matched the color of my dress, as if some greater power had intended the convergence of the two. The table with its white tablecloth was already festively decorated. Daniel ordered a bottle of water from one of the waiters. My gaze coincidentally fell upon his neck area. The first button of his shirt was open revealing once again a view of the same spot which had already taken my breath away in the elevator the day before.

'Clearly composed by a great artist,' I secretly concluded. For a brief moment, I felt as if I might be dreaming or out of my senses or something, being in the midst of this unreal atmosphere with this extraordinary man opposite me. The time of my awakening was inevitable, since the menus were handed to us with sweeping gesture. Daniel and I opened them at the same time. Our eyes met. "The restaurant was recommended to me by the production assistant. She is always a little over the top...but I didn't have any time to take care of it myself."

"I think it goes well with my dress."

"Oh, yes, it does indeed," he remarked, amazed. "You look enchanting – although I must say I like you the best when you're not in a dress."

I laughed out loud nervously. You never know what to expect. In any situation. At any time.

"I hope you don't ask me now what I liked best of all," I replied, charmingly.

"Just because everyone could hear."

I looked at the menu again.

"Oh, they have pilaf!" I exclaimed. "Once I was invited by a family from Kabul to dinner. And that evening they were having this. It's a traditional dish made of rice and it tasted delicious..."

"Why were you invited?" he asked.

"The woman worked as a nanny for friends of mine. I had put her in contact with a doctor who was able to use acupuncture on the knee of her eight year old daughter, which kept her from having to have surgery. So they were grateful to me and prepared a huge dinner. The meal and pleasantries went on and on and...oh – I just read that they also prepare it with wild game..." I jabbered away until I heard his voice, the tone of which made me look up immediately.

"Wild, you say?"

I blushed immediately and all at once felt very naked on my chair. I shifted uneasily from one side of my chair to the other.

"Yes, wild. You don't like it...wild?"

"Oh, quite the contrary," he smiled at me subtly. "I love it. Especially if it's really wild and not like what's normal in some kitchens, just bred – but in this case, that's not likely. From now on it will remind me of something I would not have previously expected..."

The look on his face could best be described as iniquitous and I was aware of what he was hinting at. Embarrassed, I looked away. It was absurd, but I felt really distressed. My heel drilled into the soft rug. With an awkward movement, I laid the napkin on my lap. He leaned forward, grabbed my arm and pulled me towards him. His eyes had an amused expression and one of the many orange specks spiraled out to bump against another.

"Oh, you're shy...How adorable! I love shy women. But with you it doesn't seem like it will be something permanent – that's my feeling so far, anyway."

He let me go again. The waiter had made his way up to the table and had brought the bottle of water.

"Appetizer?" he asked, professionally, while he filled the glasses.

"We'll begin with dessert." Daniel said firmly.

"Dessert?" the surprised waiter repeated for his own assurance.

"Dessert!" Daniel reconfirmed. "Which one do you especially recommend?"

He leaned back slowly and waited with interest for the man's reply.

"As you wish." The waiter instantly regained his composure. "Our house specialty is the freshly made abrayshum kebeb, the "silk" kebab. It is made from sweet egg threads. It is a food we like to serve on special occasions."

"That will do nicely. We'll try it."

"For both of you?" The waiter's eyes now turned to me as well.

"It sounds like an excellent choice," I smiled at him politely.

"Do you still wish to order a main course or are you only having dessert?"

Displaying amusement and satisfaction, Daniel looked at the waiter.

"On the recommendation of my company – pilaf please. With wild game."

"Also for both of you?"

"Yes."

He ordered drinks for the individual courses, such as espresso for dessert and a bottle of wine for the main course.

"We'll leave the appetizer out, don't you think?"

He turned away from the waiter and smiled at me.

"No appetizer," I nodded, amused. The waiter left our table and despite his professional demeanor one could still see that he was puzzled by the unusual order of the order.

"It seems to me that you can make people nervous with very minimal means..." I turned to him while my nails began to draw quadratic patterns in the white tablecloth.

"Whatever it takes to keep you entertained," he replied, provocatively.

I gave him a surprised look.

"That's why we're starting with a sweet dessert?" I asked.

He looked at my hand, which continued to move on the tablecloth.

"We're just going backwards. We've begun with that which one usually saves for last. We can just keep going that way. We're starting with the sweetest thing that they have to offer here. Even if, just as before, I don't believe that their specialties can hold a candle to yours." He gave me a surprisingly serious look and continued to speak. "I suspect that we'll get back to our starting point this way. And I know where it is..." he raised an eyebrow slightly. "Do you still remember how you felt? You were shaking!"

"You saw that somehow?" I asked in disbelief.

"No," he shook his head. "You're very adept in not showing any weakness, but I sensed it."

"Please, don't embarrass me again," I begged with a nervous laugh. Daniel steepled his fingers and looked at me with a concentrated look on his face.

"Let's move on to other things. What's next on your schedule?"

"Well, just like everybody else, I carry around a notebook calendar with me – except when I happen to be out with you. It is filled with addresses and persons whom I'd like to meet." Somewhat amused, I looked around the room "but the next thing I want to do is go up to Gulmarg, of course..."

"Gulmarg? Do you mean the golf course?" he immediately leaned forward displaying interest. I leaned back, relaxed, happy to have hit my mark.

"Oh, I'd love to support you with your work!" he said, excited. "My playing permit should be ready to pick up at the clubhouse office. Calling there was one of the first things I did here. Would you like to go up there after eating? I think it is still early enough for an excursion."

"Yes," I smiled at him calmly. "My pleasure!"

I was able to make him happy and that felt good.

"As far as I know, it takes one and a half hours."

"How high is it?" he asked casually.

"8700 feet."

"I can hardly imagine it." His orange took on the shapes of small spirals. "I've seen some golf courses. But playing golf as if you are on the roof of the world must be amazing. Do you know how to play?"

I looked up, amazed. He had described it the same way I had the day before as I was up above the mountains.

"No. I've only practiced once," I replied, focused. "And that was in London."

"Where at in London?"

"Meadows? Yes, I think that was the name of the course..."

"Duke Meadows? I also played a practice round there. We could have met..."

He touched the prongs of my fork with his fingertips making the handle fly up in the air.

"What were you doing in London?"

"I worked for almost a year in an editorial office. But, since my tasks never went beyond covering garden resorts, I decided to return to Germany. I had the feeling that I would advance more quickly and effectively there."

"And? Are you satisfied?"

"At the moment, very much so. After I had returned from London, I had little desire to continue to sit in an office and wait to be told what to do. Being dictated to by chief editors didn't always sit well with me. So I took a leap of faith and looked for things that interested me and offered them to editorial offices. This move is beginning to pay off now. I am free and get paid appropriately for my work."

He had followed my remarks with interest.

"Nevertheless, you shouldn't lose touch with your contacts in the English-speaking world. Your English is brilliant. I enjoy listening to you. You were raised in a bilingual family, weren't you?"

I shook my head.

"Born with a gift for languages...?" he asked in disbelief.

"It's just English. There are languages with much more complex structures..." I appeased.

"Don't be that way! I myself have absolutely no talent when it comes to languages. Sometimes I wonder how I managed to learn my own," he laughed at himself. "That's why I especially admire people who are good with languages."

"Are you trying to flatter me?" I asked, removing imaginary breadcrumbs from the tablecloth.

"Unfortunately, I'm not the kind of person who makes insincere compliments. I rather tend to speak the blunt truth. Not everyone can handle this." He looked at me with a candid expression. "I hope that doesn't scare you."

"Quite the contrary," I replied. "I find it scary if someone is smiling at me but at the same time is thinking the exact opposite. Even if it's being done under the guise of so-called consideration.

While contemplating my words, his eyes wandered to the neighboring table where two Nordic-looking Europeans were dining together.

"I think it's due to the fact that one has to take a clear position. Many people are uncomfortable about doing this."

"That may be it," I nodded. "But, in the end, one always has to take some kind of position. Even if it is the position of refraining from doing so."

"Truth as an elastic concept...?" he looked at me, interested.

"Absolutely!"

"And where does it begin and end, in your opinion?"

"It definitely starts with the fact that one acknowledges that this is true. Where does it end? No idea...you tell me!" I laughed.

"I think it ends with people. They are individual self-contained entities and subject to their own subjectivity. Which may have something to do with their own morals..."

"Or with their upbringing? Religion? Socialization?" I interrupted him, enthused by the conversation.

"...these values make up morals!" he corrected me gently.

I smiled at him, disarmed. At the same moment coffee was served to us. We stirred around in the small demitasse cups and we looked at each other with subdued curiosity.

"Well, truth remains changeable in any case," I resumed speaking. "Just like the world – and it's well-known that it never stops changing."

"Does the world change people or is it the other way around?" he provocatively asked and leaned back.

"How can one be separated from the other?" I deliberated. "Take, for example, a serious accident: In this case, the world changes the people and people change the world by adopting an appropriate attitude towards the events. This is possibly the only freedom we have. And it is worth a lot, in my opinion. Seen objectively, it simply results in a new experience. No more and no less."

I shrugged and drank the last swallow of the lukewarm mocha.

"What makes you think that such an objective demeanor can be successful in times of reckoning? How would you go about preventing anything?" he asked, interested, pushing the cup away from him then folding his hands. His pupils fixed on me, like a leopard its prey. The orange in them seemed to have a silver colored border. I stumbled into it and my heart was set ablaze.

"I think the real answer has to do with how flexible an individual really is or if they just cling to their idea of how the world should be."

"An illusion? Is that what you are getting at?" he asked.

"Yes. Something just like that is what I mean. But to answer your question: I believe it is impossible to prevent anything at all. That's actually the one thing of which I am truly convinced. Life is too powerful. It wants to experience things."

"That's the way you think?" He looked at me, surprised.

"Essentially, yes."

Daniel briefly studied my patterns on the tablecloth and extended one of the lines with his fingertip. I noticed how the ambient noise in the room was being almost completely absorbed by the plush interior. It sounded as if every table actually existed in a separate room out of which only certain pitches of sound escaped.

"My compliment," he remarked appreciatively after a short time had passed. "Life is, in fact, often too pressing. It is nature itself...it's not controllable. But mankind continues with its attempts at becoming its master."

His words spontaneously reminded me of our taxi ride and what happened after it. This example also illustrated all too well that nothing could be controlled.

"And...how do _you_ submit to your own illusions?" I asked and then poured more water in our glasses since there was no waiter to be seen.

"That which is truth for me, is no illusion," he answered.

"That's a sign of strong self-confidence," I said.

"That's what you would call it?"

"It's a compliment."

I looked up and we looked at each other a long time. I felt, how excited I was and how much I enjoyed his company.

"Truth is in the eye of the beholder, do you have the same saying?" I finally asked, just to say something. His lips slowly formed a most charming smile.

"Well...if it looks like you, then I have nothing to worry about."

I was glad that the waiter suddenly came out of nowhere to our table and served us the silk-like threads made of sweet baked pastry. They were covered with pistachios and looked extremely sugary. He raised his glass and observed his plate with a furrowed brow.

"It looks like the perfect dessert. Sweet and fateful," he remarked and touched his glass to mine, which was still sitting on the table.

"To fate, and the threads which it has spun up to now," he remarked and took a sip. I attentively watched the strange look on his face as he looked at the sugary mass.

"You know, I actually hate all sweet foods. But I thought, on this day, I should go about doing things in a manner different than I am used to," he explained.

"You don't like anything sweet?" I asked, surprised. He avidly nodded.

"That makes you one of the few. I only know people who constantly consume sticky things or occupy their time figuring out when they are allowed to do it again. Often, they even tease themselves with it, like they are flirting with danger...."

"You mean women?" he joked.

I broke the threads of the kebab, hoping not to disturb fate, and pulled the sticky honey threads apart.

"No, I mean in general. Sugar has almost everyone in its grip. What bothers me about it is that it makes people so greedy. I think it causes the gears of their minds to stick together. There are so many more interesting things in life that come to my mind. But, that is literally a matter of taste." Apologetically, I shrugged and guided the sticky structure to my mouth.

"They can't stuff their faces full enough. That's how you say it, isn't it?" he remarked in broken German. I nearly swallowed wrong, when I heard his words.

"Your languages skills are quite advanced," I remarked appreciatively, while the sticky mass dissolved to a sweet nothing on my tongue. It was a very amazing effect. "It's delicious. But you could feel bad quickly if you ate too much. That is what the question is precisely about - what you can't get enough of."

"Well...what are your personal preferences?" Daniel laid his knife and fork down and leaned back with a provocative look. I could tell what he was thinking about. But I didn't know why this had recently started to constantly make me embarrassed. I had actually never experienced myself becoming insecure so quickly and decided to go on the offensive:

"Well, I tend to prefer things which only have pleasant side effects," I summed up and dared to take it quite a bit of a step farther when I added: "The tablecloth is unfortunately too short, otherwise it would be time to put my feet up."

Amused, he shook his head and picked up his fork. He had understood.

The cable car lifted us higher and higher. By the looks of it, it must have been built around the same time as our hotel. James Bond had surely ridden in it in one of his exotic adventures. However, there was no evidence that any gun fight had taken place. Everything was intact. We glided past massive stones of extreme formations and again and again it seemed as if the small car full of people was going to ram into a protruding rock face. But I suspected that, over all the years, the rocks had voluntarily retreated from the car's path. My breath had been taken away and I couldn't be sure whether it was due to the vast landscape surrounding me or because Daniel was standing so close behind me. I decided it was a combination of the two. The other tightly packed-in passengers standing around were barely noticeable in comparison to every slightest bit of coincidental contact of his body against mine. We glided over a veritable sea of crater-shaped landscapes, forests and small villages which appeared more unrecognizably tiny the higher we went. The sunlight reflected dazzlingly off the ice of the glacier high above us. It was an overwhelming wonder – similar to us having found each other. As we passed by a large block of stone, the absurd question suddenly popped into my mind of whether it was possible to be reborn as one? How infinite would the existence of all which lay here under my feet be? I felt how his fingertips briefly moved over my back. At the same moment I had the sensation of being in free-fall. However, I was confident he would hold me tight.

We arrived unscathed and got off at the stop of a hotel which had the fitting name "Hill Top". The golf club was supposed to be situated somewhere nearby. Upon barely exiting the cable car, a small group of drivers vied for the favor of all new arrivals. We waved them off and beheld the vastness of the green plateau. The air up here seemed to have everyone under its spell and change the very essence of their state of being. Everywhere in the air there was a magical shimmering. It was much stronger than I had perceived it to be on the day of my arrival.

"Look, there is the hotel. Let's ask for a tourist card." His hand encompassed my upper arm and pushed me forwards. "You know there's no guarantee," he leaned down and said into my ear.

"What do you mean?" I asked, confused.

"The hotel doesn't have many rooms. The season is beginning. It's almost 4 p.m."

Amused by his little joke, he leaned forward. I poked him in his side and took the scarf off of my hair and laid it on my shoulder.

"The temperature is kind of chilly here..." I looked around me, a bit worried.

"Your shoes look like a bigger risk to me", he looked down at my high heels.

"Oh, how do you figure? There is no such thing as improper shoes! But there are all kinds of unruly terrains. This model here..." I enthusiastically pointed at my high-heeled leather pumps, "...is characterized by its excellent adaptability to different terrains. This is due to the broader heel which ensures stability and thus offers good slip resistance. The height of the heel, which has been reduced to 7 cm by the forward lying plateau, also provides for wearing comfort. Just the classical stiletto heel would be..."

My eyes looked up and wasn't able to speak a single word more because his lips pressed directly against mine. Carried away by the taste, I gave in to his movements and my hand grabbed his upper arm so I could keep my balance. I felt how firm his musculature was and I loved it. As quickly as he had bent over me, he moved away again. Such things were taboo in this country.

"If the shoe fits..." he remarked, dry-witted. I put my scarf back in order and paid attention to my breathing.

"My remarks about shoes...." I started in, but he interrupted me.

"...not that you think I'm a shoe fetishist"

"But I certainly am."

"Like almost all the female inhabitants of this planet. Be assured: It suits you perfectly."

I looked down and smiled happily as we trudged along in mutual silence. Once we had attained a tourist card from the reception of the nearby hotel, we ended up at the golf course after a short walk. The clubhouse was strikingly large and, like most houses in the region, was made completely out of wood. I thought that it looked more like an old farm than a luxury class golf resort, but I had never understood the aesthetics of the sport of golf in general. They always gave me the impression of being artificial children's playgrounds for the wealthy. We entered the spacious office and found ourselves at an antiquated wood counter, behind which two pretty young ladies were sitting at desks. They both looked up from the numerous fashion and gossip magazines covering their desks. The look at us with friendly expressions and I found it to be a breath of fresh air that they didn't even bother to try to make it look like there was a lot of work to be done. I suspected they were two of the few people who knew who I had standing next to me. As Daniel retrieved his papers, I addressed the ladies as a journalist and greeted them on behalf of the tourist representative. The lady across from me immediately responded when I further inquired whether a tour of the club for journalistic purposes would be possible.

"Of course. It's no problem at all. You can contact us anytime."

I had to laugh, because the reaction bore enthusiasm that I wasn't used to.

"Then we'll arrange a separate appointment. Unfortunately, I don't have my things with me today. I spontaneously came up here with Mr. Arnault. "

"Miss Lepore is accompanying me to the driving range today. That surely won't be a problem, will it?" he smiled, professionally. "And then we would need a bit of equipment from the shop."

The ladies shook their heads and nodded in turn. They quickly provided us with the appropriate gear. A boy, who looked about twelve years old, led us to one of the practice booths, which I thought bore a certain resemblance to worn out horse stalls. Employees were nowhere to be seen. An Indian laid-back atmosphere prevailed.

I leaned my shoulder against the wooden wall and looked out into the somewhat gray landscape of the practice range. My gaze was distracted almost instantly when he took off his jacket. I could now clearly see the contours of his body under the thin fabric of the shirt and I thanked the designer who had come up with this fine-tailored shirt. Unable to take my eye off him, I watched his every move:

As he chose a suitable club with great concentration, how he pulled the iron out, bent down, placed the ball on the tee and then got in position. I enjoyed every one of these sights deep down to my very core. His latissimus dorsi stole my complete attention and exhilarated by the view I recalled an internship I did for which I interviewed a physical therapist who had distinguished himself as the inventor of a dubious therapy method. I was amazed that I was able to still remember what this specific muscle strand at the upper flank was called. Apparently no information gets lost over time and that was a good thing. I switched from one leg to another and pulled my scarf tighter around my shoulders.

"Please watch the sequence of movements closely," he said, concentrating. "You will be doing the same thing in a moment."

"I'm watching everything very closely. You can count on that." There must have been some kind of undertone in my voice which moved him to give me a short but very charming smile before he energetically swung at the ball. I found the whirring sound and the speed with which the ball flew away from the booth to be quite respectable. He, on the other hand, was not happy with himself, vehemently claiming that he was out of practice.

"I'll be happy when the shooting is over and I can dispose of my time freely again. You know, I can't really identify with this project. And this doesn't feel good."

"What's going wrong?" I asked and watched spellbound as he placed the next ball. My gaze wandered to his hands. They were remarkable too. Even if they weren't doing anything more than reaching for a little white golf ball. They were elegant and powerful at the same time with an olive-colored tan and extremely well-manicured finger nails. That I hadn't taken notice of this man before puzzled me more and more every second.

"I'm still contractually bound to the studio for exactly one more project – this one. Ever since the studio was taken over by a large production company three years ago, a few things have changed – most noticeably, the quality of the screenplays. They are all but trash." He stretched. "For almost 18 months now, we weren't been able to come to an agreement over this last film and it would have been considered a breach of contract if I had turned down any further scripts. So now I'm just going ahead with the shooting of this film rather than wait for the next bad screenplay. Which would most probably just end up lacking any substance or relevant plots again. It's terrible." He set up a new ball and turned to swing.

"Oh..." I reacted with surprise. "You don't like your job?"

"At the moment, I can't say that I do. But that will change. After this movie, I plan to leave the action genre. I've had enough of it for one lifetime. It was a mistake to sign to do five movies in the first place – but hindsight is always twenty-twenty. He watched the flight path of the ball intently.

"Were you wanting to try out something new when you signed?" I dug deeper, curious.

"Yes." He looked at me with a serene gaze. "Indeed I was. At the time it was really attractive to me. It was the chance to become internationally known. However, I didn't take any time to think about the consequences, which are now catching up to me. Well...I probably wanted to have this experience."

"How could you have known that the studio was going to be sold?"

He took another ball out of the basket and looked at it briefly and somewhat disparagingly before he slowly positioned it on the tee.

"That's not the point. I should have known that I wouldn't want to be stereotyped, that I wouldn't have any fundamental influence on the screenplays, even if that did nothing to hurt box offices sales. What ensued was simply the result of the law of the industry."

"So after this movie you're 'free'?", I asked. He nodded absently and seemed to be calculating the flight path of the new ball.

"I have to confess that I'm not familiar with any of your movies." I turned my heel in the sand and straightened my back. "What's your new movie about then, if it's such a pain to shoot?

He looked at me with a brief scrutinizing facial expression, but he had nothing to fear from me. My fantasy of exploiting Daniel Arnault "the product" had reached its definitive end after this night.

"A couple..." he finally began. "They are sitting in a commuter train from Mumbai. They want to leave the western world behind and in the very beginning they unexpectedly find themselves caught up in the drama of the 2006 attack on a commuter train, but they get through it unscathed. Nevertheless, this powerful experience changes them and leads to the end of their relationship. They separate. So far – so good. As a consequence, the hero becomes a patriot. He joins a private army that has taken on the task of fighting against the Mujaheddin. They are successful in taking out an enemy camp. Tess, the hero, is injured in the process. When word of this reaches his wife, she rushes to him. Tess renounces the war and therefore nothing stands in the way of the reconciliation of the two." He looked at me with a pained expression. "It is really uncomfortable for me to embody such a character. Luckily, the director trimmed down the fight scenes. I am very grateful to him for that. I just want to finish shooting this move and then I'll have my life back."

"What happens if you don't finish shooting it?"

"I would have to pay a mere few million in contract penalties and employ an army of lawyers. Exactly the kind of thing I would like to avoid. I wouldn't even be able to pay the demanded sum – I would be ruined." He laughed, somewhat resentfully. "You know, the contracts are very sneaky and when I signed I was being too naive. I also had a lousy manager. In fact, I'd have to shoot a few commercials to meet all of the demands. The problem with this picture is: I'll never do advertisements for water or whiskey and I have a completely uncompromising attitude in this respect. I don't own any investment securities or successful restaurants which I could draw on. I only do movies...."

"So, not one to play it on the safe side?"

"Apparently not." He walked around the ball, as if were measuring it.

"It's not easy," I concluded after a short pause. "Once something has been captured on film, it's there to stay. It becomes a part of your biography."

I heard how another ball shot through the air and I observed the stern look on his face as he followed the flight of the ball.

"What you're saying couldn't be more right." He ran his palm over his eyes briefly. "I have sought contact with smaller productions in recent years. There was never a big stir about it. In the future, I want to act in independent films or in my own productions \- and support many artistic projects. Unfortunately, my contract has some tricky clauses that have made it impossible for me to take part in other projects. I had to first become 'well-established', as they so nicely put it."

"And what do you think about theater?" I wanted to know.

He put his club away and leaned with his shoulder against the booth wall opposite me. He looked at me.

"Do you like theater?" he asked.

"Yes, very much actually. I like that it takes place in real-time. The only condition I have is having a good seat, because I want to see every hair on the jacket of the actor, every detail of their mimicked expression, the first bead of sweat. This ultimately makes even the worst written play interesting. The only thing I can't warm up to is the television format. Whenever I try to watch something, I always have to compulsively do something else. I've never observed anyone else displaying this behavior," I laughed, apologetically.

"Not a couch potato then?" His gaze was unfathomable.

"Did I give you that impression?" I joked and met his gaze that seemed to pin me to the wall of the training booth. Nervously, I crossed my arms behind my back and felt the rough unsanded surface against my palms. Embarrassed, I pushed the small wood chips on the ground together with the tip of my shoe and wondered how no one had gone crazy standing opposite of Daniel before. The walls of the small room seemed to suddenly be closing in on themselves and there was an amazing lack of air circulation - despite the large opening in the front. I noticed that my breathing had almost completely stopped and the spheres had begun to autonomously gather together in my abdomen. This was all a little too awkward for me, especially since Daniel was closely studying my every move.

"So, are you interested in Theater, or...." I asked, distraught, in order to gain command over what was conspiring within me. An amused smile appeared in his eyes. I was sure he knew what was taking place inside me.

"I'd love to for one season. It's a great challenge to act before a live audience. But to tell you the truth, I think I'm not good enough at remembering lines." He shrugged, resignedly. "Aside from that, I don't like the fixed routine of a theater work day. I find the productive atmosphere on a movie set more appealing. I think it suits me better."

I nodded and my gaze wandered to the landscape outside.

"I can understand that," I smiled at him. "But if I've understood everything so far, things are looking pretty good for you: In the foreseeable future, you'll be able to be a part of the projects that you're really interested in, maybe introduce some of your viewers who only know you from your action movies to something new and broaden their horizons. I'm sure that all of the female ones alone will continue to follow everything you do."

"You're comforting me..."

"Yes, of course. Your future looks very bright, in my opinion. Many people don't even dare to try something new. Are they too lazy, too unimaginative? Sometimes it seems to me that people often don't want any kind of freedom..." I hesitated. "...but that's taking it a little too far now."

"You are a very deep person, Rosalie. I'm looking forward to having many more conversations. But come on now... -it's getting late. It's your turn." He handed me the club and, determined, retrieved a new ball.

"Stand on the line and take off your shoes."

I pulled the shoes off of my feet and followed his instructions.

"Is this the right way?"

"You look so fragile when you're not wearing shoes. How tall are you actually?"

"According to my passport, five-feet-four"

"Lovely. Now just show me first how you would do it..."

"I thought I had just done that..."

He hesitated briefly and then turned to me in one smooth movement.

"I'm convinced that that's not your only skill."

"Who would ever think that?" I turned to the little white ball. "Ok, I'm starting now...but you're not allowed to laugh!"

But he already was. I didn't hesitate long and took a swing. While I did hit the ball, and it flew upwards too – that was about the only things which went right.

"Well, first of all, the good thing is that you hit the ball. The second piece of good news is that we can still spend a lot of time together practicing." He moved in behind me and laid his hands on my hips, applying firm pressure. "So, your lower body should be straight and remain in position. The knees stay loose..." he directed me. He leaned over my back and put his arms over mine to simulate the rotation necessary to perform the swing. At the same time, my breathing all but came to a halt when I felt his body so close. I wanted to suppress this feeling, but it was simply not controllable. My vegetative nervous system reacted just as if a sudden emergency was taking place. Even before we could swing at the second ball, he spontaneously let me go and shook his head.

"There's some bad news: There's no way I can teach you. How the hell am I supposed to concentrate when your skin feels the way it does?"

I was relieved too when he released me because my body managed to settle down again.

"It's quite astonishing..." I mused, unruffling my dress.

"Yes, isn't it?" he smiled charmingly. It's as if a screenplay had brought us together, whose end we don't know.

"I'll just have a go at it again, you can correct me verbally," I suggested.

"Verbal correction?" he made an approving gesture and leaned with his shoulder against the wall. "That's an excellent idea too."

I happily laughed and once again swung at the ball. This time it went up in the air again, but was once again a far cry from having a nice bow or reaching any respectable distance. I turned around to face him. With a stretched out hand he offered me a new ball and gave me a slight smile.

"You're talented, but you still need to develop a lot of power. And please, always maintain correct posture!"

It must have surely been around 10 p.m. when we entered the lobby of the Pahalgam Hotel. It felt as if we had been away for ages. Everything around me seemed as if I had last seen it in another life. After the receptionist had given us the keys, we stood opposite each other, holding our keys with a tight grip and, almost two days after our first meeting, were somewhat lost in the lobby. A wild interplay of realities began: All of the things which we had experienced in the meantime mixed together with the vivid memory of our first encounter. It seemed to me as if time really were running backwards.

"West wing?" I began speaking.

"Then we can still walk a ways together," he said, charmingly.

"Oh yes, my pleasure," I replied, just as excited as the first evening. Nervously, I started walking. He followed me and we walked in silence until we arrived at my room. I turned with my back to the door and if I wasn't deluding myself it seemed that his body was emanating an unusual amount of heat. For some unknown reason, I got very excited all at once and shyly looked down at my shoes.

"You have to disappear into your room quickly now," he teased me, which only served to increase my bashfulness.

"And what happens then?"

"We'll continue to explore what I was thinking when I first saw you on the observation platform." His smile was seductive. "No, seriously...we could still get a drink. Shall we meet at the bar? Oh...wait. That won't work. There might be people there who have pressing questions for me. That will have to wait until tomorrow. In general, I need to get out of the hallway..."

He motioned for me to open the door. I turned around and sensed how closely he was standing behind me. This body was going to drive me over the edge. But I thought it was a reasonable price to pay. We entered the room. He quickly closed the door behind us.

"We're safe," he joked, cheerfully. "Shall we have room service bring us something? To your room or mine? I would like to change and come back to you here, or are you coming to me?"

"No, we'll come together here," I joked.

Amused, he pushed my hair back over my shoulders. In his eyes, the orange seemed to be revolving around its own axis. I had noticed that quite often. Especially when he was well-entertained.
"Shall we...?" His palm ran laterally across my neck and gently stroked my skin. I felt great tenderness emanating from him coupled with his very special way of touching me. Unexpectedly, his spheres entered into me. They felt cooler than mine, but also calmer and intent. I froze, blinked and felt how my lips began to throb heavily. My hands moved to intuitively rest on his hips. My fingers suddenly felt small and fragile. The spheres raced through the middle of my body. My head tilted slightly and I felt how his lips barely touched the sensitive skin of my neck.

"You wanted to...explore something?" I whispered, softly.

"I'll get to that in a moment..." I felt his breath against my neck, then the texture of his lips. It was an irresistible feeling.

"How about now..?"

I lost my voice and looked directly at his chest. I ran one hand over the contours that were hidden under the fabric and with the other I opened the buttons of his white shirt. My lips touched his bare skin. I gasped and felt how his hands were moving up the sides of my body. His fingertips held the zipper of my dress firmly and pulled it down a few centimeters. Suddenly he hesitated. Contrary to my expectations, he didn't open my dress. This both surprised and aroused me equally.

"Take it off," I whispered. "Please..."

My body instinctively thrusted itself against his. I wanted him. I had to have him. With forceful movements I pulled on his clothes, but his hands quickly and with great precision went for my wrists, grabbed them firmly and held them still. I felt the warmth of his hands on my pulse and this feeling intensified the small electric shocks deep within me, leaving me breathless.

"What are you doing?" I whispered.

I looked up, troubled. I sensed how he was slowly pushing me in the direction of the bed and then pressed me down against the sheets. He placed my hands beside my body and slowly let them go. I let it happen. My inner tension was reaching such a high level I could have cried. Then he laid down beside me and silently motioned to me to lie still. His gaze wandered over my body until he finally began to slide my dress off of me. He didn't do it all at once, but in steps with short pauses between. His ingenuity hypnotized my eyes into watching him and everything he was doing. I awaited his next act as subtle tremors began to spread through me. It was how his hands touched me. It was how he did everything he did. Uncontrollable turmoil took hold of me, making his intermittent pauses seem like torture. He, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying the fact that I was helplessly at his mercy. Finally he slid the dress all the way off my body, to then casually throw it to the floor. Impatient, I bit my lip. I wanted to turn to him, but he just shook his head slightly and pressed me back down against the white sheets. He placed his fingertips on the inner side of my left hand. He seemed to be searching for my heartbeat, before he, with barely perceptible pressure, moved up my arm to my shoulder, further over my collarbone, my chest, ribs, down to my belly. His fingertips hesitated at my hips, and then moved further down. Sometimes his movements were slow; sometimes he just stayed in one place and drew little circles on my skin – sometimes unknown patterns. Cold and hot shivers competed in my autonomic nervous system. I tried in vain to have influence over it. He leaned toward me and encircled my belly button with his tongue. With a mind of their own, my hands grabbed at the material of his clothes. I gasped, moaned, begged, but he pushed me away. As if in a trance, I protested, but he was relentless. His hands commanded me instead to turn over and then began to do the same thing over, starting at my shoulder blades.

"Stay there. Stay just like that," he whispered.

I felt his breath on the skin of my shoulder blade. He started to caress my every vertebra individually.

"You're beautiful. You look like a woman, a real woman ... - a superb woman. You're perfect."

He had reached my sacrum when I sensed that he too began to undress. I stayed still and shut my eyes. I bit into the back of my hand at just the thought of what was about to happen. And it happened.

"Your whole body vibrated," he said, almost casually. You could hardly tell if he knew what kind of an understatement it was that he had just made. I stretched my arm and laid my head back down, exhausted.

"You're trying to make me lose my mind," I said giving him a weak smile.

"Yes, that's true. That's exactly right. I love it when you lose control."

"You almost succeeded in it."

"I thought I did succeed...." he looked up pretending to look astonished.

"I meant the losing my mind part..." I wearily stated and closed my eyes. With a gentle movement, he laid his hands on my hips. A wave, which made me dizzy, raced through my body. I quickly opened my eyes again to get my bearings. My gaze fell on the corner of the room. I couldn't believe it.

"The gecko!" I exclaimed in astonishment and raised my hand. "Do you see him?"

He nodded in anticipation.

"This is really something! Two days ago in the evening...." I began.

"You mean when I wasn't allowed to accompany you into your room...." he interrupted me and looked at me attentively.

"Yes, yes exactly..." I said, giving him a brief smile. "When I closed the door behind me, this animal was sitting in exactly the same place. My God...the clock is really running backwards! What do we do when we arrive at the observation platform? Start over from the beginning?!"

"In a figurative sense, we were there just now. I told you you would experience what I thought when I first saw you. I hope that I was able to give you a little of my first impression." He took a strand of my hair and played with it.

"You encrypted that quite cleverly...." I said and playfully poked him in his side.

"Not as skillfully as you...." he said, flatteringly. I turned and nuzzled his upper arm. The smell of his skin left me dazed. Everything about him seemed to act like a drug.

"Daniel..." I timidly asked after a short time had passed. "Up there on the platform, something happened there didn't it, or am I wrong?"

He leaned forward grasping my upper arm.

"Rosalie..." He stared into my eyes for a while. "Believe me, I'm surprised myself by what's happening. You know, when we met up there, I felt a kind of impulse that I never had before: I wanted nothing more than to take you back home with me right then and there."

"Like how cavemen did it?" I snickered, amused.

"Yes, just like that." He laughed out loud, also entertained by the thought.

"Then as of now, we'll just keep on going together, starting from the platform?" I asked, excited and biting my lip. He looked down at me quietly and carefully studied my face.

"I'll tell you what I think..." he slowly began. "I don't believe that most people ever experience something like this even once in their lifetime. I have no idea, why it is happening or where it's leading, but it seems to me to be a very good opportunity to find out."

"I love your straightforwardness," I remarked, relieved, and I felt how my inner tension dissipated.

"We're a little similar to one another in this respect?" he asked, thoughtfully.

"I hope not only in this way," I replied and embraced his lips with a gentle kiss. Their taste reminded me of something that I had never tasted before, but seemed strangely familiar to me, nonetheless. I loved their taste and the promise they harbored. Daniel wrapped his arms around me and his fingernails dug deep into my flesh. They extinguished my own will and directed me to follow them. And it felt much easier to do than it had with any other man before.

It was still very early in the day when I felt how a hand touched me. This time, I immediately knew who it belonged to. Sleepy, I turned towards his chest and felt the warmth radiating from his body.

"Are you awake?" he asked and brushed away the strains of hair hiding my face.

"What time is it?" I asked, slowly coming around.

"Only a little after six."

"I know it's really early and I'm not someone who likes to get up at this hour, but I won't have much time during the next days to be together with you. I thought we could have breakfast together and still go for a little walk, before the nighttime action scenes I have to shoot separate us."

"Will you help me with showering first?"

"Only if you behave yourself!" he joked and sat up. Almost involuntarily, I watched the delicate interplay of his muscles. Nothing looked artificial or strained. It was perfect. I breathed in, somewhat arrhythmically, and sat up as well. No, it still wasn't just a dream. I could feel the slightly rough carpet under my feet too well and the hand that pulled me from the bed as well. He ordered breakfast from room service and then came to me in the shower. He had fun suddenly turning the water hot or cold and we flirted freely with each other. Breakfast soon came and we had some English scrambled eggs and toast. Afterward he quickly went to his room to change clothes. I, too, stood before my wardrobe and sneered as my gaze fell upon my newest purchases. Embarrassed, I turned to the upper shelves and pulled out a dark blue tunic made of pure cashmere wool which I had brought with me from Germany. It would serve well in the cool morning hours. After all, we wanted to go for a short hike. I closed the wardrobe doors and made a mental note to get rid of my purchases as soon as I had time. They seemed alien to me, just like the motives which inspired their acquisition. The situation had turned into something authentic, something which took my breath away and left no room for primitive intentions. Feeling almost humbled, I closed the wardrobe and at the same time there was a knock at my door. I grabbed my room key and opened the door. He was just about to pull the thick Tibetan wool jacket over a light colored long-sleeved shirt and I couldn't help but pursue his movements with my eyes. I could clearly tell that all of his clothing was made for only one purpose - to accentuate the attractiveness of his body.

"You look..." we both started speaking at the same time. Perplexed, we paused. Our eyes met and we cheerfully laughed at loud.

"Yeah, you too."

"Right back at you."

"Let's go..."

He took me by the hand and led me through the hallways out into the cool air. We had hardly gone a few steps, when something seemed to occur to him.

"Ah, here....wait!"

He fumbled in the pocket of his jeans and took out the Buddhist chain of pearls.

I forgot to give it back to you. I found it yesterday morning on the floor of the hotel room. It's yours, isn't it? I have a faint memory of seeing it in an unusual place." He looked at the ground with the most charming smile I had ever seen on a man's face. His dimples were clearly visible. We started walking again.

"No, it doesn't belong to me. Don't you have one on your nightstand too? I thought it was some of the hotel's religious decoration – like the New Testament you find in western hotels."

"No, they must have forgotten to put it in my room. Not that I would have noticed something like that."

He shook his head. I looked at the chain in amazement and at the same moment he laid it in my hand.

"Do you believe in anything?" he asked, with an interested look on his face. I enclosed the chain in my hand and turned my head from side to side while looking up as if waiting for an answer from my mind. I felt his body moving silently next to me as he too waited for my answer.

"If I believe in anything, then it would be most similar to Buddhism. I know a Japanese mantra. I use it sometimes when a situation seems unclear to me. Usually a path opens up to me afterward. Whether the one has something to do with the other could be classified as scientifically controversial, but I have always had the impression that it brings about positive change – even if it only means having the capacity to maintain a clear overview when in a difficult situation." I looked out into the meanwhile familiar surrounding landscape and kicked a little stone off the path. I had the impression that he wanted to hear more, so I continued to philosophize:

"Sometimes things have a way of progressing without you having to do anything at all. I suspect that life wants to expand then – out towards a new challenge, an experience which can't be evaluated beforehand, but therein lies also the beauty of it."

"That can certainly be seen in our case," he aptly observed.

"Yes, indeed." I laughed, a little nervous. "I don't think anyone really knows the secret of why something happens...or also doesn't happen. Even the greatest scientists pull their hair out over such phenomena." I sensed how he was watching me from aside as we walked quietly next to each other. Instinctively, we had taken the path to the observation platform.

"How did you get the idea to go for a walk?" I asked him in passing and looked into a huge canyon that opened up to our right. He looked as well.

"It's a very profound landscape here, isn't it?" he remarked.

"Yes...we're adapting to the environment, so to speak," I joked.

"But to answer your question: This morning I had a strange dream. As I awoke, the first thought that sprang to mind was that we had to go back to the original place we met. Why, I can't say. I just thought we have to do it for real too. If we go now, we will get back to the starting point, not just in a simulated fashion....- like we did some hours ago."

"What was the dream about?" I asked, curious.

"I can't really put it in words. I only know that everything in it was completely abstract, unreal and very dangerous..." he paused briefly. "But there are no concrete things that I can remember. Something like this doesn't normally happen to me and something about this dream made me nervous. Maybe that's why we're going on this walk."

When I looked at him, he almost seemed shy. I marveled at the many facets of his character.

"I also think it has something to do with this place. Maybe we'll discover the secret soon...Look, we're almost there."

I pointed ahead. However, our eyes didn't focus in on the platform in the distance, but on a squad of armed men resolutely approaching us. The sight of an army in Jammu and Kashmir was indeed not uncommon, but something wasn't right with this picture. Even from afar, these men didn't look like Indian army soldiers and they were coming directly at us from all sides. They had the typical headdresses of Muslim fighters and the outdated equipment of resistance fighters.

"Are they...Mujaheddin?" I heard myself ask. I saw him give me a restrained nod out of the corner of my eye and stopped walking. Each of the eight men came out of a different direction towards us. It was obvious that they were encircling us.

"This doesn't look good." he held my hand tighter. "I think they want to get to know us."

"Yeah." I looked around. "They also looked very determined at that."

Within a short time the men were only a few meters away. Their faces looked furrowed due to the extreme weather conditions and their dark eyes didn't look very hospitable to us. Their gray clothes looked worn and dusty. One of them shouted something to the others. It sounded like a variation of the Arabic language, but it was impossible to tell which one.

"Daniel..."

I shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. My heart was pounding and I was afraid.

"Stay calm," he instructed me and actually seemed to be not very impressed and waiting to see what happened. Suddenly, we heard one of the men speak in awkward sounding English.

"You come!"

One of the older ones nodded with his head in the direction out of which an old truck came rolling out of a crevice towards us. My heart sank down to my knees.

"No." I heard Daniels voice firmly say as he took a defensive stance. The old man nodded, unimpressed and resolutely signaled us to get in the truck. We both shook our heads and didn't move an inch. Two more fighters got out of the truck and opened the rusty door to the loading area. The men shouted short sentences to each other and barely a second later I felt a rifle butt hit me hard in the kidneys. It was a very violent blow and I collapsed to the ground in pain, losing my grasp on Daniel's hand. My fleeting glance saw Daniel who was already in a scuffle with the two younger fighters. Horrified, I watched as another man came from behind him and used the butt of his rifle to deliver two precise blows to the side of my beloved's head.

"No!" I screamed. At the same moment, I felt a hand clasp my arm hard and pull me forward. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw how Daniel's unconscious body fell to the ground. I screamed his name and felt how a wild panic took over my heart. 'What are they going to do?!' While they were still pulling me along, I turned my head back and saw his body laying lifelessly on the path.

"Damn you!" I shouted angrily and vehemently defended myself against the hands pulling on me. But my attempts were quickly staved off. As they continued to drag me, I watched how they lifted up his lifeless body and carried it behind us.

"Let me go! Let me go right now!" I screamed, distraught, but gained nothing from it but the ridicule of my captor. There was nothing I could do as they stowed me on the old vehicle's dirty floor. I felt how my body made contact with the ridged metal of the truck's bed. In the same second, I sat up again. I watched as they carried his unconscious body to the truck and felt the resistance of my whole being to the reality of what was taking place. The trickle of blood running down his face, made my stomach turn. I hated it. But after my unsuccessful attempts to free myself, I realized that any further resistance would be futile and only lead to further complications. The situation seemed to be serious and I decided to take heed of Daniel's last words to me and stay calm – as much as possible, that was, given the circumstances.

"Okay..." I hissed quietly and the sound of my voice, encouraged me. I felt how two men behind me were busy pressing my limbs together in such a way that I would become a faceless package when they were done. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw how they pushed Daniel's body onto the truck's bed. The trickle of blood had turned into a steady stream flowing from the gash on his temple. I swallowed and clenched my teeth. I wished that I could save every drop of his blood from falling to the dirty bed. In the meantime, the ropes tying my hand were tied to those on my feet creating a very uncomfortable pull between the two. The men tied the ropes so tightly that it immediately caused me great pain.

'My limbs will die off', kept going through my head, surprisingly without emotion. At the same moment I saw how one of the men tore off a piece of silver duct tape and my head instinctively turned away. But there were too many hands which collaborated to move me into a "suitable" position for taping my mouth shut. The men sat down on the bed against the sides of the truck and placed their weapons in front of them. They were conversing animatedly as the vehicle came to a stuttering start. We drove off into the middle of nowhere. The road was obviously rocky, because our bodies wobbled around like puppets. Out of the corner of my eye I could see how Daniel's motionless body was being shook back and forth beside me on the ridged bed. Appalled, I watched how one of the men kneed down next to him and with well-versed hand movements began to tie his wrists together. I heard a strange high-pitched noise and guessed that it must have come from me. Incredible hatred towards these men grew within me. 'They should keep their depraved hands off him!' But I was just as helpless as my lover. During the rough ride, my gaze stayed fixed upon the dusty boots of the fighters. I watched as one of the men spit a few centimeters from Daniel's body and saw his saliva spread out on the bed. I became nauseous. I could have stoned these men for being so disrespectful. My mind slowly began to comprehend that this was all just the beginning and it seemed wise to me to gather my courage and strength for adequately facing the unpleasant events to come.

"Fit for kidnapping" shot through my mind. My freedom had been taken away, but my cynicism persisted. Maybe it was some kind of displacement activity; nevertheless, I was happy I was able to keep some control over myself. The vehicle came to an abrupt stop. We had arrived "somewhere". The loading doors of the trucks were opened and half of the men jumped out. Daniel's body was taken out first. He was still unconscious, which increasingly worried me because I knew what several hard blows to the head were capable of doing. A panic-like feeling overcame my whole body at the thought that he might have suffered serious injuries. At the same moment, the men cut the rope tying my hand and feet bindings together and I felt how blood started flowing back into my limbs. But before I could orientate myself at all, a heavy blanket was thrown over me. I immediately breathed in only dust and became aware of a strong smell. Instinctively, I felt tremendous disgust which was only interrupted by my oncoming shortness of breath. With rough movements, I was lifted out of the truck. I landed unsmoothly and from right and left my elbows were grabbed pulling me forwards. I intently listened to the sounds around me. It sounded as if the whole squad had begun to move. Guided by their unrelenting hands, it seemed to me as if we were walking through a misleading labyrinth. The acoustics near me seemed to indicate that Daniel was being carried along the whole way. When we finally came to a stop, I was dizzy and nauseous. I heard a squeaking noise that sounded like a rusty door was being opened. A rough push from behind made me fall forwards into nothingness and I hit the ground. Kneeling, I listened closely to the muffled sounds. I concluded from them that the men had laid Daniel's motionless body next to me. Afterward, I heard their steps quickly move away. They closed a door and all at once there was dead silence except for the loud beating of my own stunned heart. 'My God, this had to be a dream!' I waited a moment and then another, but the scenario didn't change. The darkness and silence remained. I shook my head, hoping to wake up, but it only served to stir up the foul stench of the blanket. Slowly, I got up. I wavered slightly back and forth and bent forward. Wrinkled pieces of fabric fell into my face. My vocal chords produced a sound of disgust. I began to shake my body to try and get this awful thing off of me, while making a contemptuous noise. It finally fell to the ground, but to my dismay, it didn't change much of anything: Absolute darkness still surrounded me. I blinked, but everything around me remained darker than the darkest night. There were no contours recognizable, not even an outline. For a moment I stood there paralyzed and my mind began to feel disembodied.

'Maybe this is how it is when you're dead,' shot through my mind. I kept straining my eyes to try to recognize anything at all, but the deep black in front of me remained unchanged.

'Keep it together!' I urged myself. Slowly, my other senses started to gather information and perceived a strangely static atmosphere. It felt as if I were in a box. We had to be in a very special place and it was different than anything I was familiar with. I became incredibly uneasy. And where in the world was Daniel? I called his name and my voice came back to me in the form of a monotone sounding echo. I shuddered and suddenly noticed the piercing cold flowing in from all around me. I had to find out where they had laid him. He would get too cold – I forced myself not to think about the rest. Without losing contact with the ground, I pushed one of my feet forwards a little on the sandy surface, then another step, and another. The only difference I noticed was a drastic change in temperature. I came to the conclusion that I was moving towards something that was radiating immensely cool air. I stopped and tried to move back again. I wanted to try going three steps in every direction, so as not to completely lose my orientation. I felt my way around cautiously and with every move my tied arms ached.

'You can't worry about that now, you have to stay focused and find Daniel!' I encouraged myself. I didn't know how long I had been searching when I suddenly heard muffled voices coming towards me. I immediately crouched down on the floor, my pulse racing. My head sank and I tried to control my breathing. Then the rattling of keys and the squeaking sound again. To the left of me a door opened and the bright light of a large flashlight blinded me. They cast bizarre spheres of light on the stone walls. We were inside one of the rock formations. It was a carved stone dungeon. With heavy steps, armed men entered the room. At the same moment, I could see Daniel's motionless body six feet away in front of me. I could have reached him with the next three steps, but now the silhouettes of three more fighters appeared and were coming straight towards us. Two of the men knelt down by Daniel and began to slap his cheek and shake him. When he didn't react they poured water on his face. My breathing became hectic as I looked on and my heartbeat faltered. But another one of them had already made it to me and tore the tape off of my mouth with one pull. It burned and I slowly began to move my numb lips and spat. It was sickening, like everything here.

"Who are you?" the old man from before asked me. The question seemed to be extremely absurd. But normal conventions didn't play a role here, so much was clear.

"We are tourists. And who are you?"

"Nationality?" the man ignored my question.

"German," I answered with resignation.

"Name?"

"Rosalie Lepore."

"Him?" The man pointed in Daniel's direction. I swallowed and shook my head. The old man motioned to a young fighter who came and aggressively forced my chin upwards. He held the flashlight directly in my face and even though my eyes reflexively closed, the light still burned against my retinas.

"Speak!" I heard the voice of the old man.

"I can't tell you anything about him. I don't know him," I firmly insisted and blinked cautiously around the glow of the flashlight. At the command of the old man the fighter contemptuously released me and gave me a hard kick in the side. The pain was jarring and I gasped for air while my body bent over forwards. The old man shouted something and everyone left the cave quite quickly. The door slammed shut and darkness prevailed again. I took a few breaths until the pain had subsided and then began to crawl in the direction of Daniel.

"Daniel...Daniel! Can you hear me??" I bent down to him and began to orientate myself on his body. My ear found his heart and it was beating regularly. He was alive! I felt the subdued warmth his body was emanating. My lips quivered as they, in place of my bound hands, swept over his hair, forehead and temples. I felt nothing unusual, but that didn't mean anything. Another nightmare took hold of me as I feverishly sought for reasons why he hadn't regained consciousness yet. In a panic, I thought about the possibility of an internal injury: an aneurysm, ruptured blood vessels, cerebral hemorrhaging or even a skull fracture? I drove myself crazy thinking about what might have happened.

"Daniel...please...you have to wake up. Come on already....do it for my sake!" I nonsensically insisted almost in tears, but nothing happened. My forehead lied upon his chest and I felt that his breathing was shallower than normal. My composure was falling more apart with every passing second. I was very distraught and discouraged at the same time – and I was scared. Scared to death, to be exact. I tried to control my breathing until it matched his. I thought about whether it had been wise of me to conceal his identity. Daniel Arnault? Was that his real name? Or was it just a made-up pseudonym? I hadn't read anything about it during my research. Maybe it would be smarter to give them his name in order to improve the negotiating position, or would the opposite be true? Did the people in this region know him at all? Was his name internationally known, or only on the western half of the planet? Of course, I had no idea what the most intelligent way to act around kidnappers was. Regrettably, nothing had been written about that in the tourist authority's informational flyer. A bitter sound escaped me. I was very out of sorts, and the only thing I knew was that I wanted to protect our lives as much as was possible. But how, if I neither had a plan nor any suitable means? How could I find out now what the tactics of the governments were when it came to rebels and what kind of international agreements there were? If only he would come to again! I had to do something. I had to talk to him back to consciousness. I would go crazy here, all alone! With difficulty, I moved closer to him in the hope that together we could keep our body temperature constant. It was the only encouraging prospect in this place, in which the coldness continued to penetrate deeper into my limbs. I looked into the pitch black darkness, contemplating it all. Suddenly, I recalled my Japanese mantra. In Buddhism one would formulate things differently, you would say: His body should decide to wake up. Maybe my little device would help this decision to take place – and what else was there left to do in a place where the coldness knew no mercy, the pain in my tied wrists and ankles had exceeded a tolerable level – and fear was running rampant? I wanted him to wake up and me too – at home would be good - on my couch would be best! I almost had to laugh at my wishes which were akin to those of a child. Slowly, I lowered my head to his shoulder and began to recite this damned mantra. For an eternity. I just started over and over again from the beginning and had no idea how much time had passed. Then, I unexpectedly noticed something like a twitching beside me. My head shot up.

"Daniel!" I rolled awkwardly on my knees and bent down to him. My hair fell down uncontrollably and I tried to get it out of my face without the help of my hands. My movements mauled my wrists, but I didn't care about it right then.

"Daniel, wake up! I'm here. Just wake up!"

I heard a slight groan. His body seemed to move.

"Can you hear me?" I urgently asked as my heart skipped a beat in anticipation.

"Rosa...?" I heard him say, with a drawl.

"Yes, yes! I'm here..."

The seconds slowly dripped by and seeped into the ground.

"Rosalie, where...where are you?" he asked, in a daze.

"I'm here, beside you." I answered exhausted with relief that he knew who I was. That was a good sign! He made a noise, as if he were in pain.

"Daniel...! Finally! Finally you're awake..." I let my lips fall downward into the black nothingness and they touched his hair. "How are you feeling?!"

"I...I can't see anything..." he replied in drawn out words.

"Don't worry about that. No one would be able to see anything here. We are in one of the mountain ranges and not a single glimmer of light can make its way into this cave."

"What's with my hands and feet? What's going on here?" He tried to sit up but fell back to the floor with a cry of pain. "...and what's wrong with my head? What the hell did they do to my head?"

"Daniel, lie still please. You have to stay lying down. You were unconscious for hours." I let my lips glide over his hair once again. "Tell me how you're feeling. Are you dizzy? Nauseous? My God, it took ages..."

"My head...feels like it's not sitting on my shoulders right anymore." He turned slightly. "What is that on my hands?!"

"Our hands and feet have been tied together. Is your circulation okay? Can you feel your hands?"

"Oh, I can feel a lot." The tone of his voice was cynical and I was glad that his brain was able to process complex relationships. It seemed as if he had suffered no serious injury from the blows. According to my medical knowledge, further danger was no longer likely.

"Rosalie, what happened?" His voice sounded more normal. "What about you? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Don't worry. The main thing is that you're conscious!" I sighed and my lips slowly parted.

"Tell me what happened. I only know...we were going for a walk and then these men came out of nowhere and..."

"It was a rifle butt. They hit you a couple times with it in your temple." I breathed in with difficulty due to the images of the attack flashing in my mind.

"And then?"

"They brought us here."

"How long ago was it?

"It's hard to say. It seems to me as if it's been many hours. It's impossible to maintain any kind of orientation in this darkness."

"Ok...I see...or not as the case may be." He was silent for a short while. "Rosalie...please help me, I want to sit up. I don't think I'll be able to do it alone."

"Wait..." I tried to help him by positioning my body in such a way that it would support him as soon as he had lifted up his shoulders. And my idea actually managed to work quite well.

"We're trapped like animals here," he bitterly remarked as soon as he was sitting upright.

"I don't know...the ones who put us here seemed to be the real animals," I replied with conviction. "Are you ok? Are you able to sit that way?"

"Yes...wonderfully." I heard him exhale.

"Daniel, listen to me..." I began to quickly speak. "These men came in here one more time after they brought us here. The wanted to know our nationalities and our names. I told them mine, but I pretended that I didn't know you." I stopped for a second. "I wasn't sure if it was wise to let the fighters know they had made such a big catch. If Arnault is only your stage name, we could give them your real name instead. That way the French government will know what the situation is, but the rebels won't derive any benefit from it..."

"Rosalie..." he interrupted me, and then it was very quiet for a few further seconds.

"Yes?" I broke the silence.

"I love you. I did right from the start, when I saw you on the platform. And I don't believe I've been wrong about anything."

I swallowed and a tremor spread out through my nerve pathways. I was sure of it: This time it wasn't due to the piercing coldness.

"Daniel..." I slowly turned my head and my lips met what I thought to be his shoulder blade. "Daniel...tell me, how should we proceed? They could come back anytime!"

"There will be nothing to hide. I don't have a stage name and if someone in India was ever interested in my movies, I never found out about it. Such things are dealt with by the sales department of the studio. So, I didn't have anything to do with it. I'm sorry." He paused briefly. "I guess we'll have to wait and see what happens."

"We've been doing that already." I moved more towards his back, to receive more of the heat radiating from his body. Our tied hands got in the way, but everything about this place was uncomfortable and painful. I felt how his back rolled forwards. We sat in silence a while. Finally I heard a voice.

"Rosalie, I want to tell you something. I'm sorry, that I had the idea of going for a walk. I got us into this."

I was startled when I heard his words and pushed against him in protest.

"How can you say something like that!" I replied, upset, and shortly afterward added: "It was so nice to walk beside you. And this here...this is absurd enough!"

I felt how he sat up straight again and took a deep breath.

"In terms of absurdity, it can't be beat."

"A new screenplay again," I joked in order to somehow lift our spirits.

"And once again, better than my current one..." His voice did indeed sound somewhat more relaxed. I knew that we both had to smile.

"We still need to come up with a happy ending," I kept it up.

"Yes." He paused briefly. "A short film should be made about all of this."

"You mean low budget, small production?"

"Yes, something like that."

"I leaned my head against his back and it had a great calming effect on me. I could feel his breathing and became suddenly sentimental.

"Daniel...please...kiss me." I turned to him. His body followed mine. It wasn't an easy undertaking and was by no means painless since our tightly bound wrists continually got in the way. But finally his lips gently touched the crown of my head. They felt warm and tender. We stayed in this position for a long time.

"Are you afraid?" I heard his voice.

"Yes," I admitted. "But not as much as before."

"Your hair smells funny. What did they do to you?" he asked unexpectedly.

"Nothing!" I shook my head.

"Tell me, I want to know," he insisted.

"Daniel, I don't want to talk about the dirty blanket used to keep me from seeing where we've been taken to, it reminds me of its awful smell."

He was silent. I could feel how his lips laid back down on my hair. Apparently, we would have to spend many more hours here, I feared. Unfortunately, I was right.

It got cold. It got very cold. It seemed as if decades had passed when out of nowhere approaching voices could be heard. We were startled out of our nothingness, suddenly aware that a real world still existed.

"They're coming!" I cried and my heart began to beat excitedly.

"Finally, something is happening." His voice almost sounded relieved. Quickly, the door was unlocked and made the squealing sound I couldn't forget. The beams of the flashlights penetrated the room again and were unnaturally bright in the darkness, hurting my eyes.

"Rosalie, in case they separate us: Know that I will search for you everywhere. And you look for me too," he hastily said.

"Don't say something like that...." I replied, afraid. Just the thought of it caused my autonomic nervous system to go haywire and my heart stood still with fright. Some of the men we had seen before entered the room, but following them came a new unknown figure. It was immediately clear who was in charge. It was a tall man with a trimmed beard. What was striking about him was his nice looking clothes and the turban-like headgear. He positioned himself in the middle and looked down at us and it seemed as if he were deciding our fate. He took a few steps to the right and then back again, while bending his head downwards to get a better look at everything. Then he stroked his beard, contemplating. I felt like a tied calf at an oriental market.

"Germany? You say?" he asked in English with a strong dialect. I nodded and watched the content laughter of the man who must have been around forty years old. His face had typical Afghan features and was made distinguishable by its high cheekbones and slanted eyes. He turned to Daniel.

"Germany?" he asked gruffly and kicked a wave of dust in our direction. Daniel shook his head.

"France," he replied calmly.

"France?" the man repeated and his laughter increased in volume. This information seemed to make him very happy. He muttered unknown words and then asked for his name.

"Daniel Arnault."

There was no further reaction. The word "France" had pleased the man much more. I suspected that two different nationalities gave the promise of a double ransom. The man signaled with his head to the other men, upon which they stormed towards us and pulled us up. Two of them cut the ropes binding Daniel's feet and took hold of his arms, one on each side. The same happened to me. They led us to a low corridor carved directly into the stone and pulled us along with haste. Their flashlights drew distorted pictures on the narrow walls. Our own shadows flitted along like ghosts beside us.

'A suitable alternative to a haunted house amusement ride!' a part of me sarcastically remarked, as I stumbled along on the rocky path until somewhere in the distance a different kind of shining could be seen. It was a small opening which appeared to be the way out of the cave and a few moments later my eyes did indeed see the night sky. A thousand stars greeted me against an indigo blue sky. Many hours must have passed. They loaded us back into the dusty truck. Upon barely reaching the ridged metal of the truck bed again, I looked into his eyes again for the first time. The orange was so dark that there was hardly a contrast to the monotone gray around us. He looked calm and very serious. He was commanded to sit further back. I was to sit up front. When the vehicle started, they pushed us down against the bed. Once again I saw the tied dusty boots of the men, the wavy ridged and rusted bed whose paint had long worn off and I was jolted around during the bumpy ride. At least the temperature was tolerable again. After about ten minutes, the truck stopped. The men's hands lifted me off the truck and I heard how they did the same with Daniel. After a short walk over different soil structures, I felt some kind of a paved surface under my feet, and then a step and from then on we were on a smooth floor. I concluded that we had entered a building. The acoustics of talking voices also confirmed my theory. I heard how a door had been opened and after a few more steps I was made to sit down on a chair. Kindly enough, this time the bag was taken off of my head right away. I immediately looked around me. Daniel sat next to me on a chair and had also been freed of his head covering. He looked at me. His gaze was piercing. Two men promptly took his ankles and tied them to the chair legs. He looked at them disparagingly. For me, it was apparently not considered a necessary procedure. It seemed that almost no one took notice of me. I looked around. We were in a perhaps two-hundred square foot room with dark wood paneling on the walls. There was only one small window that was decorated with oriental lattice and located high up on the wall. However, you could see a small portion of the night sky, whose stars watched on, unmoved. In front of our seats there was a kind of long desk around which further wooden chairs were sitting. Otherwise, there was nothing else in the room to be seen. All of the men, except for an armed guard, left after having done their job. Daniel and I looked at one another again. The young guard at the door reacted immediately and came towards us spewing out indiscernible bursts of syllables. He shook his head and turned my head to face forward and then down. He did the same thing with Daniel as I could see out of the corner of my eye. Neither of us put up any resistance, even thinking about it at all seemed pointless. According to the way in which the situation presented itself, we were prisoners and were going to remain such for the time being. I stared at my knees and could only wait to see what would happen next. After a while, the wooden door opened and several men entered the room again. I looked up. Daniel raised his head too, and this time it was tolerated. The men positioned themselves in front of us. The leader from before who had got us from the cave was among them. However, he seemed to be not at the top of the chain of command in this group. The new number looked a lot like his predecessor. He had the same high cheekbones, the same exotic eye shape. I concluded that it must be his older brother. While he took his place at the forefront of the group opposite us, the young fighters laid paper and pens on the table and began to free our hands.

'Finally!' my entire being exclaimed, relieved that the painful ropes had been removed from my wrists. With unsure movements I raised my arms forwards and shook them carefully. My hands hardly had human-like color to them anymore. The men looked at me with surprise and seemed to be amused by me as if I were an exotic pet, but they themselves were laughing like apes. I rubbed my wrists and looked at Daniel who was soberly looking around at the men. His head turned to face me. He gave me a barely perceptible smile. I swallowed and smiled back. Also in this situation, amazingly, everything about him also reminded me how perfect beauty can be. And this thought gave me great encouragement. The older brother nodded to a short man in traditional clothes who then told us in an almost accent free English that we were to write down our names, countries, addresses, occupation and date of birth. We should then sign and fingerprint the papers.

"What for?" I heard Daniel's suddenly ask.

Our translator looked surprised and forwarded the question. The leader seemed unimpressed and answered, having to stop again and again due to the interpreter's inability to keep up:

"You are political prisoners. Give your own governments the blame. They support the Indian rule over Jammu and Kashmir and are suppressing the freedom of our brothers in faith, enslaving them and ruling over them. Your governments have your life in their hands and can choose to do as they please: The Indian troops must withdraw from our territory or it will cost more lives. There can be no peace. There will be no toleration. There will be no surrender. Our war continues, because your governments have chosen this path. Taken aback, I looked around at the men. The region of Jammu and Kashmir had had a difficult past for God only knows how long, and it kept on going, in part resorting to such extreme unpleasant measures as this. These people were surely right in saying that the Indian government's rule over the territory with its almost ninety percent Muslim population was invalid, but that was nothing new. The only new development was that visitors were made to pay for the problems just because they were at the wrong place at the wrong time. And I had something to say about being used as leverage.

"You need money for weapons and fighters. To keep this war going on forever, that's the only objective that..." I wasn't able to finish my sentence, that's how fast I was slapped in the face with great precision and force, which sent me reeling. My head flew to the other side and at the same time I tasted the salty taste of blood on my lips. The fighter who had stood near me stepped back. I could see how Daniel's body clenched with tension and it was clear that he was very distraught. I was afraid that he would lose control and they would knock him out again because of my thoughtless remark. The leader and his interpreter didn't deem me worthy of looking at and turned to him.

"If your woman speaks one more word, it will be her last. Women who meddle in affairs they cannot understand are not tolerated here."

I saw how Daniel stared at the men with a rigid look and then finally nodded with great difficulty. He pressed his lips together and I understood. Resignedly, I leaned back in the chair and suddenly felt extremely exhausted. I put my finger on my lips. I felt how a warm trickle ran down my skin. With a finger, I stopped the blood from dropping down. In the meantime, the leader with his interpreter continued.

"We will make a proposal to your governments. We will negotiate with them. We will turn you over to your countries should the negotiations be resolved to our satisfaction."

I heard Daniel breath in deeply and saw him nod again out of the corner of my eye. I nodded cynically along with him. Didn't the leader just say the same thing as I had, but with a sugarcoated delivery?

'A weak performance,' I angrily thought. But I had to be careful – arrogance didn't get you anywhere here. Especially if you were a women. I tried to breathe calmly and looked around. All of the men were disdainfully looking down at us. Worried, I looked at Daniel, whose body now exuded an almost unbearable inner tension. I was obvious that he hated not being able to do anything. In the meantime, the leader let a further command be translated.

"Now write down all of the information."

Giving a side glance to Daniel, I leaned forward and took the pen in my hand. He looked at me as well and when his eyes met mine, I hesitated in my movements. He shook his head and looked away. At the command of the translator, we wrote down all of the demanded information. Then they put a large inkwell on the desk and with their "help" a thumb print was added to the documents. Finally, they took a photo of each us. We were made to sit on our chairs with our hands behind us as if we were tied up. I found this exercise to be the climax of all the absurdities. When this was finished, I observed the leader conversing with his supposed brother and some of the other men. Something about it caused me to become more afraid. Much more. Their gaze moved back and forth between me and Daniel. My shoes scraped at the floor nervously. Meanwhile, Daniel seemed unnaturally composed. His hands laid locked together in front of him on the desk. When he saw me looking, he lifted his hand and gave me a conciliatory gesture.

"Stay calm! Please stay extremely calm. I don't want to go through that again!" That Daniel had spoken hardly seemed to interest anyone. I nodded, but I barely could keep my movements under control.

"Daniel, I have a bad feeling about this, really bad..."

There was shouting. I didn't understand a word, but when I looked up I could very clearly see that everyone except for the higher ups, were looking at us. A young man with a gun came up to me and held the barrel of his weapon to my forehead. I froze and suppressed the urge to burst loudly into tears with all of my might. The corners of my mouth twitched and my eyes submissively looked down at the floor. I felt the cool barrel of the rifle against my skin. My God, how I hated it! But I remained still. Minutes passed. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the restless movements of Daniel's body. Individual muscle strains were vibrating so rapidly that I believed only I could see them. Then a decision seemed to have been reached. The fighter left me and they all spread out. The assembly was adjourned. Overtaken with fear, I looked into Daniel's eyes.

"They're going to separate us. I can feel it," I whispered to him.

He shook his head slowly and seemed to want to console me. In the very same moment, it already happened. The fighters followed their orders. Two men pulled me out of my chair and bent my arms back. Instinctively, I blurted out a cry of pain. Another squad turned to him and began to tie his hands, while another untied his feet. Four men attended to just him. Our eyes met again for a fraction of a second and seemed to look into an unpredictable future.

"Daniel...I won't make it if they separate..."

I was roughly pulled to the side and one of the men angrily put his hand over my mouth. I heard the strange voice close to my ear, noticed the unusual smell and reflexively began to defend myself.

"Let me go. Don't touch me, go away..." I screamed in disgust and bit the hand that wanted to take me to where I surely didn't ever want to end up. From then on, they were merciless. They consequently took action. I felt a hard blow hit my face and elbows pressing me against the dark brown wooden floor. I was very distraught over my powerlessness and their rough hands.

"Take your hands off of me. Take them off...take them all off! Let go of me," I cried, trying to free myself and get rid of these hateful hands. At the same moment, I heard Daniel's frantic voice call out to me.

"Rosalie, stop that right now! Stop it or they will kill you! Rosa, please – do it for me! Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that he had jumped up and the fighters had immediately surrounded him with their large guns. My limbs instantly went limp. I didn't in any way want to be the cause of another scuffle between Daniel and the fighters. So I willingly let myself be laid on the floor and watched in dismal astonishment as crimson blood mixed with my brown hair. My resistance gave way. Completely. In me, the emptiness of despair blacked out all other feelings. They tied me up using their grip techniques and in the end I felt like a small piece of luggage. When I saw the distance grow between me and the door of the room in which Daniel remained in, it was impossible for me to maintain my composure. I cursed and cried and cried and screamed. I grieved for him, for myself and because I was so helpless. I tore myself apart over being too weak to change anything. And because we couldn't be together. I loathed them dearly for it. For all eternity. Despite the fact that everything was a blur, I realized that I had been taken out of the house and was being carried further up the mountain. The cool air cleared my head a little, but my despair spread like cancer.

I looked around. Between two mountain masses, a somewhat hidden building had been built. Its size was impressive and it was in the classical architectural style of the region. The men put me down on my feet and made it clear that they wanted me to walk the rest of the way myself. They put a kind of wire noose around my wrists that cut deeply into my skin. It felt like a dull knife that slowly but steadily chafed off my skin. With the implementation of this instrument, they had finally fully degraded me to the status of marionette. However, all of these pains were nothing in comparison to the numbness inside which had taken over me since being torn away from Daniel. From now on we would be living in different realities. I was sure of that. I had been ripped out of a much loved present and pushed into a hated future out of which they had taken what I held most dear and I suspected they would never give him back to me. I could have killed them for it. And all of it because of a heated political conflict which the Indian and Muslim factions hadn't been able to resolve for decades – because of territorial disputes which had already cost way too many lives. So senseless, mad and irrational. Similar to my current state. A heavy rain of tears fell uncontrollably from my eyes and my teeth were chattering. Dizzy, I saw us moving towards a large wooden entrance door. It opened after one of the men knocked on it in a certain pattern. A fighter let us in and locked the door behind us with a large bar. I wiped my tears off on my shoulder and looked around. It was a spacious but somewhat dimly lit entrance hall which was decorated with striking attention to detail, such as a flower arrangement. I had the hiccups, was tired and hungry and just wanted this nightmare to be over, but in the very same second I was robbed of all of my wishful thinking. My attention was drawn to a perhaps sixty-year-old woman who seemed to come out of nowhere. She had a black lace scarf thrown over her hair and also wore a traditional dress with elaborate detailing. She was coming directly towards us. Her eyes were so dark that they were hard to read. She stared at me for a short time and nodded to the fighters, almost imperceptibly. Something about her reminded me of the coldness of the mountains which surrounded the house. I suspected that during the course of her long life she had found less and less room for empathy for others.

'It's an insult to her pride to have to accept my presence in her house,' I intuitively thought. At the same moment, she grabbed my elbow and pulled me along with her. I let it happen – freely. Just the fact that I was getting away from these men was comforting to me in that moment. She led me through dark wood-paneled hallways to a room resembling a traditional hammam. I was totally perplexed to find myself suddenly standing in a bathroom, not only that, but it had the amenities of a five star hotel. The three large bathtubs situated in the middle of the room had exterior mosaic decoration, as did the large stone benches next to them. The environment represented no threat. No hostile appearance, no fighters' hands, no stress. Just this old woman and me. She stood before me with a contemplative gaze and began to talk to me in her language. I didn't understand a single word, let alone what she wanted. She pointed to herself and repeated the word "Rabea". Finally I understood. I brushed the strands of hair away from my face and answered, suddenly befallen by immense fatigue:

"Rosalie. My name is Rosalie."

Rabea scrunched her eyebrows. I could see how the wrinkles of her forehead grooved in every which direction while her brain was working on something. She stared at me blankly and I looked back, expressionless. We stood there a few seconds until I pointlessly repeated my name. I didn't want any more enemies. I wanted peace, even if it was next to impossible due to my inner desolation and despair. The pain churning deep within my internal organs was hardly bearable. In the meantime, Rabea motioned to me in a cumbersome manner to take off my clothes. She pulled on my long sweater and simulated putting something on the floor. I was appalled.

"Undress?" I blurted out. I looked at her blankly and shook my head. "No..."

Rabea rolled her eyes and began to talk incessantly. With upset gestures, she pointed to the bathtub and nudged me in its direction. Afraid, I watched her fierce facial expressions and wrinkled hands repeatedly pulling at my clothes. Finally she let go and the expression in her eyes changed. She sighed and suddenly spoke with an imploring softer voice, while her hands pointed at the door. Gradually, I thought I began to understand. The men were outside and if I didn't do what she said, the consequences would be much more unpleasant. For a few more moments, I stood there, not being able to decide what to do until I gained the impression that this woman didn't want to do anything bad. Come what may, I probably wasn't going to get out of the situation unscathed anyway and decided to follow her absurd demands. With slow movements, I began to pull the completely in dust-covered sweater off over my head. The woman nodded contentedly as I handed her the garment and began to open the first button of my jeans. I remembered that I still had the Buddhist chain in a side pocket. I reached for it and pulled it out, keeping it enclosed in my hand while I removed my jeans. The woman had been watching everything with eagle eyes and came towards me, intent on grabbing my hand. Full of panic, that this stranger might lay just a finger on my chain, I concealed my hand behind my back just like a child wanting to hide a toy. But I couldn't do otherwise. There was no way I was going to give up the chain. It would be the one relic connecting me to my "normal" life – and to Daniel. In the meantime, the woman insisted with her gestures that I show her what I was hiding. I was breathing heavily and my eyes darted to the left and right as if I were looking for a way out that wasn't there. I shuddered and first when I had taken a step back to move myself out of the range of her hand did I slowly open my hand. She wrinkled her brow and looked at me with a strange look of resignation, motioning to me with a wave of her hand that I could keep it. Relieved, I clasped the chain tightly in my hand. Rabea bent down and let water flow into the large bathtub. My gaze fell down upon the water gathering in the tub and forming small whirlpools. My sadness was so immense that I feared I would break out in tears flowing with the same speed as the water. But I just swallowed and with great difficulty maintained my composure. Meanwhile, I noticed how every inch of my body was being scanned by Rabea's disapproving eyes and I realized that I was almost standing naked before her. She motioned for me to get in the tub. I hesitantly removed my underwear and did what she asked. It was humiliating, but I had no choice. The water surrounded me with a warm embrace, but my heart froze every second more. I watched as Rabea went to another door on the other side of the room and pulled on some kind of cord. Then she stood motionless with contemptuous pride in her gaze, which was fixed on me. This made me anxious. While I still had the feeling that nothing terrible would happen to me in the next few minutes, for the first time since my arrival I began to think about what the real purpose of bringing me to this luxurious house was. Why was I in a bathtub? And where could Daniel be? The uncertainty about whether he had sustained further injuries drove me mad. Something told me that he wasn't sitting in a mosaic covered hammam bathing. Inside my head, I continually prayed that he was in a safe environment and that this nightmare would "somehow" come to an end soon. But I knew that my battered self had to come up with some comforting illusion to keep me going. My eyes fixated on the small enamel stones on the wide edge of the tub and my ears listened to my heart's beating. It galloped onwards – into nothingness.

I was terribly frightened when the door next to Rabea suddenly opened. Three women in long tunics entered the room. They were carrying different things in their hands and coming directly towards me. Bearing untamed curiosity, their eyes fell upon me. Stiff as a board, I gazed at them and their image burned into my retina. I closed my eyes briefly. My inner voice told me to stay calm.

'There's no reason to get nervous. They are just women! Nothing is going to happen!' I tried to reassure myself while my eyes nervously followed the movements of the two approximately thirty-year-old women accompanied by a very young girl. She must have been sixteen or seventeen years old and was rigidly holding a silver tray. Rabea went up them gave them apparent orders, after which the three hectically began to place the things they had brought around me. Seemingly completely devoted to their work, they gave me furtive side-glances. I pulled my legs in towards me and became even more ashamed of my naked helpless self. One of the women began to gather my clothes into a kind of burlap laundry bag. The second, clothed in an orange robe, diligently placed towels on a shelf, upon which the girl then also placed the tray. I cringed when I saw what was on it: It was an old-fashioned shaving razor including soap and everything else that went along with it. I stared at her strangely. The girl seemed to be afraid of me and stepped away quickly. Irritated, I looked from her to Rabea. Looking annoyed, she just signaled to me with her hands. She motioned for me to stand up and had soap and a sponge handed to me. I imagined that I understood and quickly withstood my instinctive impulse to disobey her demands. I was sure that she would go to whatever lengths necessary to have her way and the last thing I wanted was to experience the brutality of her male kin again. Especially the razor, which one of the women was now holding, convinced me to follow any and all instructions. So I insecurely got up and found myself shivering in the open room. Right in front of them. After an imperious order from Rabea, I also quickly grabbed the sponge and began to lather myself up in front of the curious eyes of the women. Mild cramps afflicted me and my movements were jerky and awkward. My mind feverishly tried to work out how to get out of the situation, but nothing at the moment seemed more impossible: I didn't even have clothes on anymore.

After I had lathered myself up and looked at them irresolutely, the four pairs of eyes awoke from their gaping stares and Rabea addressed the young woman with a rough voice. She nodded and came up to me. Her eyes seemed to imply that she didn't in any way want to see what she was seeing. To tell the truth, I could have imagined more pleasant company too. Worried, I watched the woman in the orange colored robe as she came towards me with the razor while the older of the two held my arm up. I had to think of the Statue of Liberty and my own grim sense of humor briefly nauseated me. I shook my head in disbelief when they really did begin to shave me. A hysterical laugh escaped me.

"You can't be serious," I whispered in amazement in my native language. Instantly, all four pairs of eyes had me in their gaze, all looking incredibly irritated. I looked down and they continued to do my whole body. Their movements were well-versed, even if they weren't able to find much to scrape off. I watched, devoid of emotion as if turned to stone. Sometimes our eyes met. I saw their dark eyes looking at me with a mixture of disgust and curiosity. I had the feeling I was _dreaming_. When they had finished their procedure and I was dry, they instructed me to rub my body with heavily scented oil and to put on the dress which had been laid out for me. It was a caftan-like, floor-length gown with matching pants to go underneath it. It was of a light green color and was noticeably richly embroidered. It even looked more detailed than all of the dresses the women were wearing. In my very exhausted brain, thoughts slowly started to form as I looked into the eyes of all these women who were apparently very well-off. Who were they actually? Who had coerced them into doing this? These women didn't look to me as if they were ordinary caretakers who had volunteered to bathe and anoint a westerner.

Suddenly I realized that they had been instructed by someone to perform these tasks – and that it could only have been a man in their household. Those were the rules of this region. Instinctive uneasiness crept from the depths of my subconscious and spilled over onto the surface.

"Oh my god," I blurted out quietly. Immediately all eyes were on me again. Since the dress had been on me, their expressions were ones only of pure hatred. The realization struck me like lightning. It was not normal at all for a kidnapped westerner to be dressed better than their captor's own family. Their response was one of jealousy. I swallowed, and became light-headed. Panic stretched its tentacles out towards me. The knives in my heart turned like little motors.

"What's going on here?" I asked, slowly and in English. I only received blank stares. Rabea said something to me in a harsh tone and pressed a brush into my hand. She motioned to me to use it. But I didn't react.

"What is this all about?" I repeated, insistently. I pointed with a questioning look at my dress. The eyes of the younger women seemed to await Rabea's reaction with curiosity.

"Chanim!" she nastily shouted at me. Rabea shook me and seemed seriously upset. I only shook my head and silently handed her the brush back. She looked at me angrily and began to nervously give the other women commands. Instantly two of them ran around collecting all of the things and hastily took them out of the room. The oldest one took the brush and began to comb my hair. Shortly after that the youngest of them entered the room again, also armed with a brush, and began on the other side of my head. Their roughly executed movements pulled my head from left to right. I felt how they were ripping out whole tufts and saw my damp nests of hair fall to the floor. In a parallel world, memories flashed before my eyes of yesterday morning when Daniel had sat behind me straightening out my hair with his hands. I remembered exactly how this moment had felt. His thigh had touched mine when he sat down behind me to untangle the strands. My eyes closed and I felt the individual lengths of the rotating blades in my heart, as well as the degree of sharpness of their blades.

When this procedure had also come to end, I was led to a narrow room, dominated by a muddy green color. I saw a knee high table upon which an unused teapot was sitting and looking somewhat forlorn, some pillows for sitting on and a large wooden door opposite me. Rabea went directly towards it and instructed me with a short gesture to wait. It seemed to be a kind of antechamber. A few seconds later, the door opened again. Rabea motioned for me to come in. I entered a spacious room richly decorated with traditional art objects. But I only peripherally perceived the things around me, because my complete attention was focused on the only other person there who was sitting at the rear side of the table with his legs crossed and as if on a throne: It was the forty year old man with wide cheekbones whose acquaintance I had first made in the cave. My first and only instinct was to immediately run away, but there was no way to heed it: I had no chance of getting very far. In the meantime, the man nodded in a friendly manner and indicated that I should sit down. Hesitantly, I took a few steps forward and heard how the door was shut behind me. My heart beating, I looked back. Rabea had left the room without a word. Despondently, I breathed in and hesitantly sat down on the seat cushion opposite him at the table. My gaze fell upon an extravagantly set table, which left no culinary desires unfulfilled. Even though I had not eaten in ages and was feeling extremely weak, the sight of food only exhausted me more and a very uneasy feeling began to overtake me. Something was wrong with this picture, very wrong. I was a hostage being treated like a guest of honor. I raised my bewildered eyes and looked straight into the pitch-black ones of this man. They seemed to me to be like little pieces of coal under his bushy eyebrows. They were focusing in on me in a discomforting manner. I quickly looked down. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched the man take a plate and then he said a few words to me in his native language. He invited me to eat and handed me a plate. Then he poured me some tea and continued to chat with a rough voice. I gave a restrained nod and thanked him. More out of fear of doing something wrong than out of hunger, I slowly took the plate and disconcertingly placed it on the table in front of me. He looked at me calmly and motioned to me several times to start eating. Distraught, I reached for the tea and drank the whole glass in one swallow. With a crude laugh, he refilled it and then noisily resumed devouring his food. He obviously had a big appetite and again motioned for me to start eating as well. I became more and more uncomfortable as he contentedly helped himself to the contents of each of the dishes. Continuing to look down, I heard his loud chewing sounds. My throat tightened and I again became slightly nauseous. When he was finished with his meal, we sat passively and silent across from each other. After a short while, the man stood up came to my side of the table and stood directly behind me. I froze. Adrenaline wildly raced through my body. In contrast, my heart stood still. Suddenly, he took a strand of my hair and lifted it up. Calmly, he bent down to his hand and sniffed at the strand. My impulse to run away was so overpowering that every little muscle in my body tensed up until it hurt. I had all but stopped breathing and my whole being was held prisoner by the thought of what this could lead to. It seemed to me that he was pondering something. Finally, he abruptly turned away and left the room. Irritated, I looked back at him. My galloping heart beat returned to a regular-paced trot. I sat paralyzed and rubbed the pearls of the Buddhist prayer chain against each other, which I was still clutching. So I sat and just waited and waited. Then Rabea entered the room looking at me with undisguised pride. What exactly she wanted to prove by it was a mystery to me and I noticed that I had begun to no longer let such things bother me. We stepped out into the hallway. I followed her up the stairs, into a small but fully furnished room in which there was also a narrow bed. She handed me a robe, which resembled a nightgown and made it clear that I should sleep there. Then she led me to a tiny bathroom and left me a few minutes alone. I still wasn't sure why I was receiving all of this preferential treatment and I only could hope that Daniel was at least half as well-off as I was. I purposely avoided thinking about him, because whenever I did so, pain attacked like a wild animal. But in the back of my mind, he followed me like a shadow – continuously, invisibly and silently. This sensation was painful enough.

When I arrived back in the small room, Rabea locked me in, without a further word. I looked around: In the approximately 150 square foot room, there was a low standing table, wood-paneled walls and a small window with decorated grilles, which was also placed high up on the wall. There were embroidered pillows, throws and printed fabrics everywhere. I already hated the smell of the things surrounding me. Resignedly, my gaze fell upon a nightgown laid out on the bed. It was made of coarse linen and also embroidered. I touched it. The material was stiff and firm – quite like I expected. It was crude, just like everything around me had been for hours. Nevertheless, my stay in this room probably meant that nothing else would happen today. I was sure that it had to be late in the evening in the meantime. My limbs felt as heavy as lead and my stomach ached while adrenaline continued to inevitably race through my nerve pathways. Disconcerted, I sat on the edge of the bed and stared off into space for a while, only having the nightgown as my counterpart. I noticed my hand was hurting and saw that the pearls of the chain had dug into my palm. I slowly opened my hand and could feel how blood throbbed back up to my fingertips. I almost believed that I could hear it flowing, that's how quiet everything around me had all at once become. I was incredibly uneasy and could feel how fear set in in all the parts of my body. With a quick movement I stood up and breathed. I looked around and ran to the door. I tested the wooden material and the iron lock for weakness, in vain. Then I ran to the other side and stacked the pillows up to form a makeshift ladder to the window. My plan failed as the pillows collapsed down into each other with every attempt to climb up them. I sighed and looked around pessimistically and realized that my great efforts weren't going to get me anywhere. I would have to stay here. A whole night...or maybe even many more. My trembling intensified into spasms. With hasty movements, I traded the unloved caftan dress for the nightgown just to have something to do and then sat down on the edge of the bed. I buried my head in my hands. Images of Daniel and my parents, especially my mother, appeared in my mind's eye. It was the latter which gave me the courage I needed to calm down. She seemed to whisper to me that I never needed to worry about anything in my life. I listened to her, because I hadn't heard her voice since she died. Slowly I calmed down and it took a while, until I reluctantly sank down to the surface of the bed and stayed there, exhausted. It was strange and uncomfortable for me to lie there, because it felt like such a contradiction. I would have most liked to lie on the floor, but that wouldn't have made anything better. Under the circumstances, didn't I have it good and wasn't it time to face reality – whether I found it to be pleasant or not? I placed the Buddhist chain on my chest and after a while exhaustion overpowered me and I involuntarily fell into a deep sleep.

I felt what he was doing and snorted with laughter because I was sure: He didn't want to do it like that. His put his hands demandingly on my body. Absurdly, I turned away from him. It hurt having to do so and I didn't want to, but he was uncomfortably rubbing my skin. He would have to learn not to hurt me. I was disappointed. Why wasn't he guiding me like I was used to him doing? Why did he seem so crude and clumsy?

"Sssssst..." I heard my voice and tried to grab his hands, but they eluded me.

"Not so fast..." I strongly insisted, but he acted unfazed and became more forceful. I tried to laugh. From one moment to the next, I suddenly realized that I didn't know him at all. I looked up and it was true: His face – it continually changed its shape. A feeling of panic overcame me. I frantically jumped up and found myself without warning in a dark, narrow room. The walls closed in on me and there was no exit in sight. I tested the walls but everything had the same smooth surface and whenever I touched anything, my hands just slid off and it left me dizzy. I began to cry as I noticed he was following me. I didn't know what had happened. The face became solid and took on foreign traits. He grabbed at me quickly and hectically. It was a game that I didn't like at all. I tried again and again to escape, but his hands followed me. I began to loathe them while at the same time it broke my heart. I didn't want to hate him. I wanted everything to be like it was before.

"Stop it!" I loudly cried out.

The face shape-shifted to resemble one of the younger fighters. I screamed. I saw terrible looking large hands. They grabbed at me. I fought them with all my might and the sound of my own voice woke me up. Suddenly I saw the room in which I was really in. It was the same 150 square foot room in which I had fallen asleep without knowing it. The only difference was that I was no longer alone. Within a fraction of an instant, I realized that the man with whom I had eaten was sitting next to me on the bed moving his hands over my body. I saw my pushed up nightgown and pure terror seized me. In the very same second in which I realized what was going on, I had already jumped up. My body turned quick as lightning away and wanted to escape over the foot of the bed in the direction of the door. However, my attempt was abruptly stopped. His hand caught my ankle and I uncontrollably fell forward onto the floor. I saw the oriental rug coming towards me and instinctively began to put my hands in front of me to keep my head from crashing into the floor. But the force was too great, and I heard my jaw crack when I landed. The attention the stabbing pain wanted had to wait. My adrenaline wanted control over the situation. And the man wanted control over me. When I looked up, I saw his face. He seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself. I heard a hoarse laugh and saw that he was missing his front two teeth. I let out a very angry and desperate noise and lifted myself up with my arms. With one hand I quickly pulled my night gown down and gazed wild-eyed around me. The man nodded his head as if I had done everything just "right". His hand let go of my ankle and he patted on the bed next to him. His eyes gave me the impression that he thought I was an exotic pet one could have extraordinary fun with. In an instant, I realized that this person and I came from totally different worlds and that he didn't care whether I despised him or how I was feeling. One of my hands reached for my chain and I seemed to hear Daniel's voice telling me to remain calm. I took a moment to compose myself. Maybe this man had just shamelessly exploited the opportunity and the situation would stabilize itself now that I was awake. It was the hope that carried me as I got up and sat at a considerable distance away on the outer edge of the bed. I couldn't bear to look at him and fixated fearfully on his hands. They were bony and of a dark brown color. His fingernails were very long and had a yellowish color. I shuddered at the sight. Just the thought that these hands had just been on my skin completely disgusted me. For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then he motioned that I should move closer. I looked up into his dark slanted eyes and at his long beard and an excessive fear of what might happen overtook me. I shook my head slowly. He frowned, but his gaze remained indifferent. He started to talk and with the very long nail of his little finger lifted up the hem of my nightgown to let me know I was to undress. His eyes were full of expectation. I immediately cringed away in fear and in a panic got up. I had to get out of here. First, I turned slowly and then lightning fast and ran towards the door. I tried the handle, but it was locked. When I had pressed it down multiple times and the miracle of escaping from this room didn't come to pass, I broke down crying in front of the brown wooden door. In my anguish, I tried the handle again and again, but reality didn't change for me. I was not going to get out of this room. I was caught with a man who clearly had sexual intentions. Exasperated, I sank down onto my knees. I whimpered when I heard him getting up again.

"No!" I screamed. "No, never!" With my last bit of strength I pulled on the door handle again and again. When he got closer, I huddled down like a baby. I held my legs tightly against me, buried my head in them and heard my teeth loudly chattering. My lips murmured the Japanese mantra and at the same moment I felt the grip of his hand on my hair. He held it tightly and ripped my head up to face him. I screamed in pain. He looked discontent and started speaking in a demanding manner. I felt how, little by little, he began pulling me by my hair back to the bed. I swung my fists at him but didn't hit him a single time. His grip was like a handcuff and he pulled me behind him like as if I were an animal. I gasped and screamed. People on the verge of madness must feel the same way I did at this moment. He walked around me and hit me with a solid blow to the face which caused me to drop my guard for a few seconds. This was exactly the amount of time he needed to grab my wrists. In the blink of an eye, I felt how the same kind of wire noose I had already become acquainted with press my wrists together and using it he continued to force me in the direction of the bed. I let myself fall to the floor, but it did little to faze him and he just continued to pull me along. It felt as if my hands would be pulled off my body and like I was being scalped at the same time. He wanted to destroy me, tear me to pieces, extinguish me. But what he still had planned for me would be even worse than what was happening. Upon nearing the bed, I kicked around wildly and my continual resistance seemed to be starting to make him angry. He barked incessantly at me in his language – I screamed at him in mine. Nothing on earth could make me get into this bed voluntarily. His right hand let go of my hair and I watched as he fumbled around with his clothes. His linen pants fell to the ground and his legs were in my field of vision. They were slender and covered by way too much black hair. All these images played in slow-motion in my head. I heard myself gag. There had to be a way out of here! This couldn't be allowed to happen! His hand pulled my chin up and I was looking directly at his thigh, which was only a few centimeters from my face. I smelled the strange smell of his skin and I could tell what was about to happen. Just like an animal, I leaned forward and sank my teeth deep into his flesh. I bit as hard as I possibly could and heard him crying out in pain. But I didn't stop. I dug my teeth in deeper and deeper, regardless of how disgusting the salty taste was. I noticed how he tried to escape me, but I wasn't able to let go anymore. I had become completely rigid and would do anything to prevent this one thing from happening. Suddenly I felt a sharp blow to my temple and an even harder one on my neck. Everything went black and I was free.

The world consisted of just one single throbbing sensation and it hurt like hell. A hell one couldn't survive in. In waves, a giant echo emerged. It was my own voice, groaning. A kind of consciousness began to form in me, but only one single aspect dominated in it: the relentless pain. An elementary pain. It vibrated and with every beat of my heart it was transported deeper into my tissue. The center of brain sent out confused signals which mercilessly pierced my consciousness. I was in a vacuum and felt the need to open my eyes, but my eyelids were stuck and I needed time to do it. It was a complete mistake. The glaring light coming at me intensified the pain which shattered everything that I had ever been. I whimpered. The waves of pain of my own voice joined up with the others and echoed over and over, seemingly into infinity. Reflexively, I closed my eyelids. Deep despair joined me in the renewed darkness. I was lying down and alive. Somehow. After a while, my fingertips surveyed the surface upon which I was lying. It was a rough fabric. I had to try it again and slowly opened my eyes. It was dark. I was confused. Why was there no light?!

'Take it easy girl...' my brain clearly ordered.

I tried to raise my head but it felt as if it would burst. Nevertheless, I managed to capture an image that caused me to remember something – something that caused all of my muscles to tense up at once. The waves in my head combined to make up an insufferable choreography. Sobbing, my brain went haywire and my body recoiled. I waited. I had to do everything very slowly. I wasn't myself anymore. During my second attempt to sit up, I looked through the half-torn nightgown and saw some kind of dried up substance between my legs. Horrified, I groaned and felt bile constantly moving up my throat. Despite the thousand stinging needles in my head, I did what was necessary to make the vomit land on the floor and not the bed. The urge to gag – the dizziness: never before had I experienced such dehumanization. I heard what sounded like a wounded animal and tasted the bitter substance of my own vomit that fell to the floor in slow intervals. I watched on through small optical spirals while my head exploded in a thousand pieces taking my soul with it. Into the deep. Once again, I crashed to the floor.

I had no idea how many hours I had laid absolutely still, exclusively dominated by physical and emotional horror. In the middle of this ugly rug on a foul-smelling substance. What had they done to me? How had it been possible for this kind of reality to enter into my life? In slow-motion, my fingertips reached for the Buddhist chain on my neck, while I laid my other hand on my stomach to hold myself like one would a child. And that was how I was still lying when I suddenly heard an immensely loud sound. It was the key turning in the lock of the door. I opened my eyes and felt how my blood was being driven by whips up my veins. The door was opened and shut again – as if directly in my head. Every sound echoed so loudly that it caused waves of pain to crash against the inside of my head. I heard an earthquake coming directly towards me. Distraught, I opened my eyes. Everything was a blur, but I recognized the old woman into whose charge I had been placed upon arriving. She looked down at me silently. I was relieved, because I didn't fear that she would do me any further harm. I would have really liked to have held her hand, that's how much I was in need of comforting. Her eyes took in the whole scene and motioned for me to stand up. I gave a negative answer by moving my wrist. She leaned down towards me a little and her hand reached for my eyelids. With a gesture, she asked me if it was my head that was hurting and I replied to her question with a small knock on the floor. She seemed to have understood my "yes". Without a word, she left the room and the door shut with a loud threatening bang. It took only a short time before Rabea reappeared. She had brought the oldest of the three women with her. There steps on the floor were unbearable, however, I was relieved not to be alone. Peripherally, I could see that they were placing bowls next to me. When our eyes met, I could see what I thought to be a mixture of horror and fascination. But this time I didn't care about how they looked. The only thing I cared about was if they would help me. A few seconds later, Rabea sat in front of me and began to dip the towels into the water. Right after that, I felt a warm towel going over my thigh and realized that she had begun to wash me. The second woman constantly ran back and forth and got fresh and very hot water. For just my head, they brought a bucket of ice cold water and laid several chilled towels on my forehead and over my eyes. They smelled strongly of herbs and I found them to be pleasant. When they had finished and began collecting their utensils and getting up to leave, another fearful noise escaped me. I didn't want to be alone. I was too scared, but I wasn't able to formulate it adequately. Rabea looked at me briefly and shouted something to the other woman. She came back and covered me with a large linen cloth. At that very same moment I threw up again. My condition had hardly improved. The only thing that I was apparently aware and able to keep track of was how much light was in my room. I saw the brightness give way to dark and consequently kept my eyes closed whenever the sun was in the correct position to shine in on me. It caused a sharp stinging pain in the inner wall of my eye. When night fell, a state of outright euphoria came over me, because I hoped that with every day that passed there would also be an improvement in my condition. Eventually I would have to start getting better again – since I at least wasn't able to notice anything getting markedly worse. However, if anything was really changing, it did so without my knowledge of it. From time to time it seemed as if my awareness just slipped away. Out of a black nothingness, I awoke as Rabea entered my room and I remembered a strange bitter-tasting drink which she always administered to me. I drank it in greedy gulps because I had gained the impression that it was strengthening me. Every now and then I came to in a small, cold room which had primitive sanitary facilities and I noticed that many hands were roaming around on my limp body. It caused my head to hurt like hell and I threw up on the stone floor beside me while the voices around me talked louder over one another. What I was aware of consisted of many small pictures, but it seemed to me that too many fragments were missing to be able to piece together a whole picture of reality. That was, until one day when I awoke in the strange twilight of a newly breaking day. My eyes blinked and my body felt strangely present. Around me there was absolute silence. For a moment, I thought I might be deaf, but after a while I could hear distant noises in the house. I moved slightly and I became aware that something had fundamentally changed. I was not immediately aware of what it was, but after a short time I noticed that the contours in the room remained well-defined. I was able to see every detail clearly. I swallowed. My throat was dry. I carefully cleared my throat, but there was no unbearable echo in my head anymore. This was something I was no longer used to. I cleared my throat again to further investigate, but it remained silent in my head. The corners of my mouth rose involuntarily. For a brief moment, I thought I could feel Daniel's hand. My heartbeat quickened. It was good.

Since this one morning, the contours of everything remained clearly defined. Noises had a normal frequency and my memories became more concrete. From this moment on, I had the feeling that I could exactly count the number of passing days and I gained the impression that I was recovering bit by bit every day. More and more often, I tried to walk around in my prison and I was in fact able to do it without the unbearable level of pain I had come to expect. A strong throbbing, sometimes stabbing pain but not brutal. When I was able to sit up several times a day for longer periods, I regularly felt a little happy. Sometimes I whispered encouraging things to myself because I wanted to live. I ran my hands over my face to feel that I actually existed. My external wounds seemed to have healed fairly quickly and I would have liked to have looked at myself in the mirror. But every time when Rabea took me to the nearby bathroom, she led me past the small mirror on the wall so fast that I couldn't see my face in time. Maybe it was better that way. I had become humble and had learned from Rabea to practice a special kind of discretion.

One morning as I sat quietly on the edge of the bed and looked dreamily into the sunlight that fell in strange patterns through the grille of the window into the little room, my hand reached for the chain of pearls on my neck. Carefully, and with a very slow movement, I took it off and looked at it in my hand. I remembered everything that had happened before. Daniel...where might he be? How much time might have passed? Was he still down at the other building? But something in me sensed that there was now some distance between us and it left me feeling lonely – just like the pain of having found a soulmate only to lose him again in the blink of an eye. Would I ever see Daniel again? Maybe what he and I had experienced together was really just a surreal episode – something fate had dubbed in for the purpose of leading me to a completely new kind of experience. What if my life would now forever be continued in this house? What if I never got out of this prison again? Despite the warm morning, I was shivering down to my core. Out of nowhere, I found myself listening to Daniel's voice which said:

"I will search for you everywhere. And you look for me too..." In a daze, I rubbed my eyes and felt how large and heavy the stones weighing down my heart were. My head was pounding and I watched the dust particles gliding like insects through the rays of sun peeking in. Too much drama had taken place and I found it difficult to orientate myself in the jungle of my fractured awareness. To be honest, every single one of the existing possibilities for continuing my life made me shudder. At the same moment, Rabea entered the small room to tend to me as she did every morning. She usually brought sweet rice and then led me into the small bathroom. She often brought the young girl with her, who incessantly stared at me with her big eyes. None of my movements seemed to elude her gaze – it was almost creepy. Rabea, however, often reacted in a strangely distant manner. I respected the fact that she turned her eyes away whenever I looked at her. I didn't in any way want to confront her with my foreign mannerisms which might irritate her. So I too immediately and voluntarily looked away in order to not break any of the unfamiliar rules. Basically, I didn't understand their emotions at all. But I was determined to give my helpers the utmost respect and not require them to adapt to my cultural expectations. It seemed to be the only thing I could do, except to keep waiting and to continue to decipher the still partly unknown constellations forming in my head. It was a very humbling act. But the only thing I was sure of was that I would have died in that room had they not taken care of me. As always, after breakfast Rabea led me to the nearby small bathroom, but amazingly this time she left me alone there. With unsure steps, I positioned myself in front of the small sink with a mirror above it and took a deep breath. I felt a strong pull in my neck and throbbing at my temples. Slowly I lifted my gaze up and I saw my face in the small aged mirror. It was a scary moment although, strangely, my outward appearance hardly looked different. Certainly, my eyes were surrounded by dark shadows and there was an approximately 3 cm long red scar on my left cheek, but that all took a backstage to the expression in my eyes. It was as if I were beginning a journey into an endless expanse. In my pupils there was a look of finality that frightened me. It was an expression I had never seen before in my eyes or those of any other human being. All at once, I had flashbacks to all of the times I had looked into a mirror since I arrived in this country: I saw Rosalie at the rooftop bar, curious and optimistic, the one after the first encounter with Daniel, dazed and confused, the vibrant woman before our first rendezvous and the one after our first night. How easy all of that had been. And how frightening the way the level of desperation in my eyes now defied these experiences. My pupils developed a vertiginous effect that was scary to me. I quickly turned away and realized that my heart was beating way too fast. I wanted to take a shower. Wash off all of the pain. Slowly, I pulled the tunic off over my head and carefully took the Buddhist chain of pearls off of my neck. I laid it together with my clothes and slowly got into the modest-looking shower. I felt the lukewarm water rain down on my skin and the first pleasant experience I had had since entering this house began. Just a short while later, the jet of water transformed into the last pleasant sensation my body could recall: Daniel's hands. No sooner had this thought penetrated my consciousness did I hastily turn the water off. Neither was there anything to wash, nor to remember. It was necessary to survive and I was not able to shake the feeling that so far I had only done so by the skin of my teeth. Determined not to look back, I grabbed the towel and dried myself off. My movements were slow, but I was able to coordinate them well and mastered all of the necessary procedures in an almost normal fashion. Feats of which I only could have dreamed of performing just a short time ago. This progress meant more to me than all of the other things which in some way held importance in my life. Having already finished for some time, I sat on the edge of the shower and waited for the key to turn in the lock again. I had established as a fact: the life of a prisoner was something for patient people and I had, by and large, been an impatient person. It was shocking to realize just how little my life now had to do with the Rosalie I once knew. Suddenly I heard noises at the door and nervously looked up. It was a newly acquired reflex that wouldn't go away anytime soon. Rabea appeared in the room and presented me with new clothes. They were caftans similar to those worn by the other women in the house. I put one on and thanked her with a nod. My eyes studied hers for a few seconds. There was no visible reaction. They were so dark and opaque, like all the eyes I had seen in this place. I wondered what kind of people they were, what rules they followed, what they really thought about all of this. But such thoughts quickly had a tiring effect on me. I had learned to concentrate on what was happening in the here and now and to go on from there in tiny steps at a time. No matter how slow, it was progress. Absurdly, my life had never been managed so well before than in these days, and that despite all of the uninvited chaos. After the usual morning procedure, I spent the next hours locked in my room. If I spent several days there alone, it was hard for me to maintain my sense of reality. Whenever it was really bad, I got into the practice of reciting my Japanese mantra and to trust in the fact that my original essence was indestructible. Normally, I felt better after doing so. Sometimes, I also did easy ballet exercises to improve my sense of balance or simple yoga exercises that I managed to recall. My captivity proved to be more bearable if I kept somewhat physically active. I had always been a more athletic type of person and since my childhood I had regularly taken lessons in modern ballet or swum laps in the mornings at the indoor pool. Sitting around forever rather seemed to deplete me than facilitate my recovery. Sometimes I also sung simple songs that I remembered. I made sure to do all of these things as quietly as possible, because one thing was certain: I didn't need any more trouble and didn't want to provoke anyone in the house. They would probably remove me from the room and stick me back in some dark hole. This was one of my latent fears that I tried to control and they were the only thing upon which I could count with absolute certainty.

Finally, I began to count the days. Since blacking-out and the recovery time, I came up with twenty-eight. I assumed that my captors were in negotiations with the German government, blackmailing them for a ransom. It was the only value I held for them and ensured my survival. I prayed that Daniel was also being held under similar "orderly" circumstances and that his celebrity status would spur his government into speeding up the negotiations. Maybe I could benefit from it as well. Ultimately, it was something to hope for which lent me encouragement and I also consequently avoided thinking about any darker scenarios than the one in which I was in. The brief intermezzo between Daniel and I gradually began to seem more and more unreal to me. But everything must have happened as it did; otherwise I wouldn't wake up every day in this place. My desolate spirit wondered what would be left of us, because our coming together couldn't have been more fleeting and intense. Soon there came a time when I was allowed to spend the afternoons with the women in the lower level of the house. Although we weren't able to communicate and during the time I remained on the sidelines, at least I wasn't alone. I liked observing the women because they always had a horde of children around them whom they strictly disciplined and their every word seemed to be obeyed. Sometimes it seemed that they could stop one of them from doing something mischievous with just a look. When the three boys and four girls saw me for the first time, they gathered around me and stared at me as if I were the eighth wonder of the world. They made a game out of touching me and then running quickly away. They screamed and screeched around me, but it didn't take long before I bored them. And so I remained an unnoticed wallflower – for them I was just the woman who didn't speak. The women of the house also seemed to care a less about me. They sat together and talked. As time went on, I gained the impression that they were just talking about everyday things such as kitchen work or the preparation of food, nothing of great importance. They often seemed like little children to me when they were joking around or arguing. Only when they were keeping their children in line did they transform into evil oversized shadows and the child-like traits they had displayed only seconds before vanished. These women consistently adhered to their own social structures. Watching them gave me a new perspective on the version of the world I had grown up with. The way they behaved made my former academic circle of friends seem strangely vain and out of touch. In Munich there were completely different status symbols and values, but from time to time I thought I saw a certain similarity regarding the motivation to be at the top of the hierarchy. Rabea, who always seemed to be the overseer of everything, did her part in reinforcing my impression. The youngest of the women in the house, however, seemed to find me fascinating in a naive way. Under the close scrutiny of her elders, she even obstinately showed me her needlework – it consisted of small weavings, seemingly of no significance, but they must have been of immense importance in her world. One time she even brought me a needle in order to encourage me to try it out myself. Then the older ones stormed towards us and snatched it away from me while looking at the youngest girl sternly. I suspected that she marveled at me as if I were a souvenir of the western world. As I assessed the situation, she was clearly the fledgling of the group, but was definitely not the daughter of any of them, but a young wife. Too young, in my opinion. It was her, too, who one day secretly took me aside while the others were busy plucking a chicken on the patio. She came out of nowhere and all at once and pulled hard on my clothes. At first I pushed her nervously away, but she insisted with her hands and feet, so that I became curious as well. She led me into a small dark room. On top of a dresser, a small TV was flickering. My heart instantly froze when I, without any warning, saw what I was being presented with on the screen: Daniel's face. My eyes caught sight of him sitting behind a long table in front of journalists. The constant flashing of cameras made it clear that it was a press conference. My body reacted the same way it did the first time I saw him. I literally leapt at the small device and tried to understand the words he was speaking, but an Arab host commentated with a loud voice over the original audio. It seemed to be promotion for the new film. Suddenly there was a close up where his eyes looked into the camera and the bright spots in his eyes appeared only centimeters away. I was paralyzed and made some kind of noise. After that, a movie poster showing him and Maxime Kitson together in a panic-stricken yet romantic embrace while in the background the tall mountains and a burning train could be seen. It had to be about the movie the two had acted in together in this region. I bit into my fingertips. The final scene of the segment showed both of the main characters on the red carpet waving at the camera. The next images were of a Muslim anchorman in a traditional studio setting. It seemed to be a newscast. I felt a very acute dizziness come over me and I noticed how every fiber of my being changed – every single one. The pervasive tremors in my body were only interrupted by the heavy pounding of my heart. My brain was working hard: that couldn't be possible! According to my calculations of the amount of time passed it was impossible that this movie could be premiering already. I helplessly reached for the floor and sat down while the young women, acting excited like a schoolgirl, pulled on my clothes. I hardly noticed her. My eyes looked in disbelief at the anchorman dressed in Muslim clothing who continued to enthusiastically speak. My head sank to my knees and I did what I had thoroughly trained myself to do since my arrival: to breathe slowly. Suddenly the door was flung open. Rabea and the second oldest one stormed towards us. The young woman got out of sight while Rabea pulled me up and put me under the watch of the other woman. She led me upstairs to my room, giving me dirty looks all along the way while I whispered to myself continuously, trying to figure out the meaning of what I had just seen. I think that even she was creeped out by me. She quickly unlocked the door to my room and pushed me into it. For me, however, reality had just caved in again. It was not a moment for paying attention to composure. It was a moment in which reality had changed. In a daze, I sat on the edge of my bed and laid my forehead in my hands. I felt how strands of my hair fell over my face and I closed my eyes. In my mind, thoughts churned and a dull pain once again radiated out of my temples to my face. How could it be that Daniel Arnault was on TV promoting the movie that they were still shooting in this region just a short time ago? Were the images that I had just seen real?! Everything did look authentic and if there was a press conference, a movie poster and a red carpet, it could only mean one thing: I must have made a big mistake somewhere in my calculation of how much time had passed – and no one was going to tell me what that mistake was. The young woman had also reacted too spontaneously, ruling out any kind of perfidious intrigue. But if what my eyes had just seen was the truth, it meant that Daniel Arnault was in a western country promoting his movie! I shook my head in disbelief. I was not just taken aback – utter dismay took hold of me. Again and again, I tried to think things through logically. According to my calculations, I had been in captivity for about sixty-five days. Was this enough time to finish shooting, editing and holding a press conference on a movie? My mind leaped to the handover and ransom arrangements, which also had to have taken place. They must have quickly found a solution for all of the problems. A little too quickly. I came to the conclusion that all of these, usually time-consuming, things couldn't have come to pass in only a month and a half. It was impossible. But maybe these recordings had a completely different context that it seemed. I had, after all, not understood a single word! Maybe they were reporting on the movie being canceled, but what about the waving on the red carpet together with the main actress then? To my knowledge, he hadn't acted in a movie with her before. All in all, it meant that I had no idea how much time had actually passed since our kidnapping. The more I thought about it, the more clearly I remembered the early days of my recovery. I had already considered myself completely cured, yet sometime wondered why they were already bringing me dinner when I had just had breakfast a short while ago. Some days, time really had seemed to fly by, while in reality it should have drug on endlessly in the small room. Shivering, I breathed in and leaned back. I must have suffered memory lapses and maybe that was even commonplace after such a bad concussion – that's what I hoped at least, because the fear of never getting out of this prison again or even being killed one day was also suddenly joined by the fear of losing my mind. And yet another harrowing thought oppressed me almost at the very same second. Slowly I let myself fall back on to my elbows and stared down as if in shock at my body. It had changed a lot due to my imprisonment too. I had lost a lot of weight; just the area round my abdomen remained stubborn. Since I had never paid attention to my weight before, I at first thought nothing more of it and was even happy about it, because I had seen it as a sign that I would soon have my period. I had already been thinking about how I could let the women know. Until now, I had assumed that I was in a coma during my last one. But if more time had passed than I suspected, it could mean something completely different: I was pregnant.

That night, I could hardly sleep. A horrible feeling of desolation had me in its grip. Thousands of questions popped up and, upon finding no answers, they hovered in the room motionlessly. They seemed to stare at me like lost ghosts. And I once again turned into a little afraid child. Despondent, I clutched the chain of pearls and seemed to sink deeper into loneliness every second until I arrived at the bottom of a dark hole. Alone. Reality had caught up with me, without me even knowing all the facts. What had happened in the meantime? Why was Daniel free and I was still in captivity? What was the government doing? Was it doing anything at all? What would happen if the negotiations for ransom money failed? Would that be the death of me? I was a western infidel, a persona non grata. Why would they keep me here for so long? Suddenly I wished I had been in a group of tourists instead of with an actor who probably got all of the attention. Hadn't Daniel said that he would search for me? My hope that we would ever see each other again was extinguished all at once. He apparently had gotten back to his old life again and already forgotten me. Our encounter had been too fleeting and wasn't it the circumstances that shaped people? I was happy that he was apparently safe, but due to the sharpness of the pain that these images had triggered, I wasn't myself. My confused mind had probably lulled me into believing in too many illusions. At one point, my despair transformed into immeasurable anger. I could have hit the walls with my fists. My gaze fell upon one of the accursed pillows and I threw it hard against the wall and then a second one and a third and fourth, but eventually I stopped. I was breathing heavily and felt the unending humility that I would continue to have to experience if I was to endure here – and it was suddenly accompanied by the onset of nausea.

Not being able to trust my own thoughts disparaged everything in me and tore down my fortress of hope that had helped me keep it together until now. I went down with it, rolling like a small stone part of an unstoppable event. Days passed by and, in the meantime, I was sure that I was pregnant. My circumference had increased in size again and my stomach seemed strange to me in comparison to the rest of my very fragile body. And I often observed my body when I was alone in the room. It appeared as if Rabea had noticed something too. One day, she entered the bathroom unannounced just as I was about to put on a new caftan. She had always respected my privacy, until now. Her gaze stayed fixed on my midsection and she pointed at it and asked me something in her language. I froze in horror, because I knew she was the only one in the house who had a general idea of what was going on with me. And other than my death I was, in the meantime, afraid of just one other thing: claim of ownership of any potential successor. I quickly pulled the dressed down and shook my head nervously. For the first time, I saw a real reaction from her. She laughed, revealing her many missing teeth. As if I were a calf, she enthusiastically patted my thigh – as if I had won the grand prize in a lottery. Anxiously, I looked at her and feverishly tried to think up a counterargument.

"Daniel," I insisted, pointing at my belly. Although only God knew who the father was, it was up to me to diminish Rabea's interest. She actually did look somewhat surprised and nodded before she motioned to me with her head that I should exit the bathroom. I had the feeling that I had done everything right. One thing was certain: I wanted to get out of here and not have to wait for them to see if I would give birth to a potential lineage holder. If the child was Daniel's it could serve to protect me – given they couldn't rule it out by precise calculation. As a matter of fact, Rabea never again took me down to the women's rooms starting this day. I sat in my room and practiced for hours bending my back in such a way as to conceal my growing belly. The result was pitiful, but I carried on trying just to have something to do. I simply did everything I could think of to positively influence the course of my narrow little world. For example, I prayed for hours on end: first of all that I wouldn't lose my mind, that I would maintain my composure, that a future worth living was waiting for me – and that Daniel would be the father of my child. And I used my mantra, just like other people spent hours watching television, and I prayed to the Gods of all the religions I knew – to at least have the inner sense of peace that I had done all I could. A higher level of freedom was not to be reached in this place. Rabea surprisingly proved to be my guardian angel. She brought me wide caftans which had been designed very cleverly and I couldn't help but think that she was doing it to help me. She brought me fresh fruit several times a day and in between checked in to see if everything was ok. I suspected that pregnancies were always a hot topic among the women here. Even though there was no verbal communication and we were in the situation we were in, we coexisted peacefully. Since that day, Rabea's spirit walked with mine and never again worked against me. Time heaped up into a huge mountain. The sudden explosive increase in my body measurements indicated to me that, in the meantime, months had passed by. Determined to have a peaceful night, I laid down on the sheets I detested so much and covered myself with the coarse woolen blanket that Rabea had given me not long ago. It was getting colder. I suspected that fall had arrived. The landscape outside had probably become even more captivating in the meantime. Even the amount of light entering my room had changed. I hated not being able to take even just a little look outside, however I made sure to never entertain my inner loathing of the situation for too long. It wasn't helpful for my state of mind and as far as I could tell at least it seemed to be stable again, since I couldn't detect any gaps in my monotonous daily life. To put myself to the test, I arranged the pillows differently every day after breakfast and memorized every detail. Observation of the course of the sunlight over the material ensured that I was awake at all times and had one continuous experience. They were modest acts, but I was proud of myself. After all, I was still alive and had coped with all of the crises well so far – which was something not to be taken for granted. It gave me strength to never let go of my most prized possession: my hope.

And I wasn't to be disappointed. One day, Rabea stormed into my room and hectically motioned for me to come with her. To my amazement, she led me directly to the small green room where I had already been on the day of my arrival. I suspected that an official meeting was to take place in the neighboring room and, sure enough, when the doors to this room were opened I was met by familiar faces: the leader, his interpreter and the younger brother were all there. They were surrounded by soldiers with large guns. My tormentor, however, was nowhere to be seen. I was relieved, because I wouldn't have been able to bear the sight of the man who had so blatantly violated and disgraced me. Despite my inner intent to remain calm, my limbs began to visibly shake. Instinctively, I attempted to disguise the size of my belly, but it was no longer really possible, so I tried to breathe calmly and sat down at the offered place at the table. There was nothing else to do but hope that the caftan would provide an adequate illusion. I gulped when I heard the words of the leader in his own language. Immediately following, the interpreter provided the translation:

"Woman, a handover will take place. We expect you to remain calm. You will do as you are commanded. If you do not do so, you will be killed. Do you understand?"

I looked up, stunned, and nodded almost automatically. I swallowed and my heartbeat accelerated.

"Yes," I quickly said. "I have understood everything."

"Now we will take you to the handover location. What happens next is in God's hands and those of your wards."

I nodded hastily in order to hide my inner tension.

"I will do what you command. You can be sure of it."

The men nodded in understanding and left the room with heavy steps before my astonished eyes. I was excited, almost in a surreal manner, and could hardly believe it: I was really being allowed to leave this house – and after all this time at that! My spontaneous reaction was to laugh in disbelief, but I immediately suppressed it, out of fear. I looked at Rabea who had been standing at the door the whole time. She motioned for me to get up and I thought I saw a slight smile on her lips. I shyly smiled back. She led me out into the entrance room where the same servant was standing as when I arrived. It all seemed like déjà vu to me, but with different circumstances. We stood and waited until knocking at the door could be heard. Then the man next to us opened the front door and Rabea nodded slightly. I realized that fighters were standing outside and quickly took one step forward to briefly extend my hand to Rabea and look into her eyes. This time I thought I saw a genuine smile. At that moment, I realized how much I wanted to thank her if only I could speak her language. I took a breath in and whispered a quick "thank you" in my native language. Then everything happened so fast. The fighter's hands tugged on me and I felt the same disgust as before. In general, the whole scenario unbelievably played out in almost the exact same way as before:

I was loaded onto the same truck that had brought me here. The hands of strangers pushed me onto the ridged bed and began to bind my hands with rope. Then we began a new trip over the bumpy terrain together. Just like before, I stared at their dusty boots and for sentimental reasons briefly at the place behind me where Daniel had once lain. However, only more boots could be seen there. Stunned, I felt how the child unexpectedly forcefully kicked against my abdominal wall. It seemed to turn around inside me and I found it to be a very strange sensation. With mixed feelings, I gritted my teeth and could do nothing but wait. The truck drove over one more very bumpy rock and then came to an abrupt stop. Over half of the fighters got up and arranged themselves in front of the vehicle. I remained lying down and didn't move a muscle, and then they pulled me off of the truck. My eyes caught sight of a gray sea of rocks and next to them was a flat sandy area. About three hundred feet away from us, I saw a small military SUV parked at an angle and sitting alone in the landscape except for armed soldiers of the national army who were positioned in front of it.

A rough push from one of the fighters, including an unintelligible command, was my cue that I should walk over to the other vehicle. Unsure, whether I had understood everything correctly, I slowly began to move. I took the first step, the second, the third, the tenth and twentieth and I couldn't believe it. Nothing happened. It was a sunny but cool fall day. Strands of my hair flew into my face and impaired my vision. I wasn't able to brush them aside – my hands were still bound behind my back, but I just kept on going until I had come within close proximity of the jeep. My heart was beating fast. I was alive! No bullet had hit me on the way to this vehicle and struck me down. There were only a few more yards and if it didn't happen now, it wasn't going to ever happen. I stifled the impulse to start running. It wouldn't have been possible anyway due to size of my stomach and lack of proper footwear as well as my bound wrists. Then it finally happened. A door of the car opened and I saw a dignified looking middle-aged man wearing a beige suit made of lightweight wool. Beige. I thought I was dreaming. Beige, really?! In the front of the car were two soldiers in uniform from the Indian army and, immediately after being helped into the car by the man's hand, we took off. In amazement, I looked at the man next to me who looked completely unremarkable and whispered to me at the same moment:

"Please remain calm!"

My humor, which thrived on irony, immediately came back to me, but I was too out of breath to answer. In disbelief, I turned my head around and looked back at the warriors I had just walked away from. They became smaller and smaller as the jeep was rapidly accelerating, although it didn't appear as if anyone was trying to stop us. A surprising and very euphoric feeling came over me.

"Finally!" I softly whispered and I looked forwards again. I saw the tanned necks of the two soldiers in the front of the jeep and asked my counterpart in the backseat:

"Am I free now?"

"Ms. Lepore, I think we made it," I heard the man next to me say in a strangely high voice.

"The first part, for sure," I said, hesitantly, as I felt the child put in great effort to change its position in me again. As if under a spell, I held my breath and waited until the situation in my body had calmed down again. "So, I'm not dreaming?" I asked, looking for reassurance.

"No."

I was silent for a moment and looked around nervously in the jeep. A deranged laugh escaped me.

"Oh my God! That's...it can't be true! It's..."

"Sometimes it doesn't ever come true. But you shouldn't think about that right now."

"Tell me, what is today's date?"

"Today is the twelfth of September 2012."

"And I finally have my freedom back – is that correct?"

The man nodded again. In my head the months rattled by. Six. Almost six months had passed. In disbelief, I looked down at myself. "Where...where is Mr. Arnault?"

"Please save all of your questions until we are out of this area and have arrived at our base in the city. There, your questions will be answered – if possible."

Having, in the meantime, become accustomed to following orders, I remained well-behaved and nodded.

"Could you then at least free me of these ropes?"

"Of course, let's have a look..." the man put on a rimless pair of glasses and studied my bound hands.

"Why aren't you doing anything?" I turned to him, puzzled.

"Don't worry. We will soon be stopping and meeting up with another unit. They will surely have an appropriate device for getting it off of you."

"How soon is soon?"

He looked at his wristwatch like a public official who had been asked about his working hours.

"In about 15 seconds."

I studied him. He was the first new person I had seen in months. His eyes were one-dimensionally gray and he had the charisma of a typical official. It seemed completely absurd to me that, after all the months in captivity, someone like him would be the one to rescue me. Fifteen seconds...he seemed just as crazy as I was.

"Ms. Lepore, can you hear me?" he suddenly insisted I respond.

"I can hear you perfectly fine," I clearly answered. "And I have no problem seeing you either."

"Good," he replied and cleared his throat. "I just had to be sure."

All at once I felt dismayed and switched back to the normal way of conversing, which I had long forgotten.

"Of course, please excuse me. Where exactly are we going?"

"To a diplomatic base in Srinagar."

"That's good news."

I breathed in deeply. At almost the same moment, the jeep came to an abrupt stop and a unit of soldiers stormed out of a hiding place in the rocks towards us. I could sense how my pupils fearfully shrunk and despite my hands being tied my hands reached towards the man sitting next to me.

"Who are they?" I asked, anxious.

"It's the Indian military. Don't worry. They have orders to escort us safely into the city."

Some soldiers came up to our jeep and briefly exchanged words with the driver. The man next to me joined in, speaking an apparently almost perfect Indian. Then the back door was opened and a soldier, showing no emotion, cut the ropes off of me. Then the door was slammed shut again and the journey continued at a rapid pace towards the city.

"How long is it going to take?" I asked after we had started moving again.

"If there are no further incidents, the trip will take an hour and thirteen minutes."

Surprised, I raised my eyebrows. So everything wasn't just a long time ago, but farther away than I had suspected as well. I swallowed and leaned back somewhat sluggishly. The man handed me a fresh bottle of water. I drank a little and thanked him with a nod. I felt numb. We remained silent. After a while, I looked at him and he seemed to be attentively watching his knees. Something about him seemed so miserable that I decided to talk to him.

"Is everything all right with you, Mr....? What is your name, anyway?"

"Musille. Robert Musille."

I turned towards him in disbelief.

"What...Robert Musil, like the author? Have I traveled back in time a century now too?"

He laughed in a somewhat constrained manner and shrugged with his narrow shoulders.

"Musille with two L's and an E."

"Your parents must have had quite a sense of humor?"

"I wouldn't say that."

"Well, you can't choose who your parents will be. Just like certain other things. Who are you?"

"I am a member of the German crisis team that was formed as a result of your kidnapping."

"Do you actually write much?" I asked in good humor.

"Yes," he seemed quite dry-witted now. "I'm always writing protocols."

"Is this your first kidnapping?"

He cleared his throat.

"Ms. Lepore, you were the one who was kidnapped."

I gave him a strange look. He was a very difficult person, wanting to be almost obsessively exact about everything, but a certain degree of thoroughness was probably beneficial for someone holding such a position.

"Is Musille your code name?" I additionally wanted to know.

He looked at me with such a peeved expression on his face that I really did believe him when he immediately replied "No".

"Please excuse me – it...it could have been."

Mr. Musille fell silent again. I had the impression the he was not particularly interested in communicating with me. I found his behavior incomprehensible and also looked silently into the bleak rocky landscape that we were passing through. I had the feeling that I wasn't really experiencing any of it. There was something very strange about changing realities so quickly. My backseat companion raised his arm and looked at his wristwatch. He carried out every one of his movements very precisely and somewhat mechanically. I almost asked him if he had an important appointment to get to. But any more jokes would have been inappropriate at this point in time. I wondered where my absurd humorous thoughts always came from. As I saw it, there was every reason to be euphoric: I was traveling along a sandy street back to a new, self-determined life – if it wasn't for this unusually strong tugging sensation in my abdomen. All of a sudden, the fear of a miscarriage out here in the middle of nowhere came over me. But I suppressed these feelings vehemently, as well as thinking about how I would soon know with certainty who the biological father of the child was. My fear of any of the answers was always present and collided with my wish that it would be a child of passion – and not one of rape. I knew that it wasn't up to me to pass judgment and, regardless of the outcome, in this jeep I became aware that I would have to deal with new issues. I had to finally give up being the unknowing victim. A new chapter had begun and now a lot of things would fundamentally change. Of that I was sure.

Our trip ended in an old Victorian-style villa in the heart of Srinagar. A business-minded team of diplomats, agents and police were there to greet me as well as a member of a German aid organization who was the only one who acted especially enthusiastic and polite. They offered me the opportunity to take a shower and proposed a joint dinner for later where the first issues would be clarified and questions answered. I was led to a room which could have competed with any hotel room and I was given the things which they had seized from my former hotel room in Pahalgam. Among my clothes, I couldn't find anything that even came close to fitting me anymore except for a knitted tunic and slightly thicker tights which I had taken along for cooler days. I put them on, and for the first time I smelled like myself again. Exhausted, I laid down on the single bed and watched the display of the small travel alarm clock sitting on the nightstand next to me. The seconds on the display flew by, restarting at zero again and again. Extraordinary feelings blossomed in me. For the first time since being taken hostage, there was a tangible future and I could hardly wait to find out more. Meanwhile, the child stirred again and let its exceptional unrest be known. Hesitantly, I raised my hands and, for the first time since my knowledge of the pregnancy, laid them on my belly. It was something which I had always avoided. Amazed, I noticed how our heartbeat first accelerated to shortly thereafter slow to an extremely calm rate. Touched, I laughed and, somewhat estranged, felt how tears ran down over my cheeks. We laid this way for a short while, this child and I, and I think we enjoyed it. A soft knock at the door startled me. I quickly wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes and sat up.

"Ms. Lepore?" I heard come from behind the door.

"One moment please," I brushed my hair out of my face and my feet touched the floor. Amazed, I realized that I felt rested and, yes, even happy. Something in me had changed – had become cheerful and carefree. I was on my way back from nowhere and I felt that I had increased in strength and was ready for what awaited me.

Led by an employee, I went to the lower part of the building. There I found myself in a dimly lit room with heavy wooden furniture, including a large round teak table situated in the middle of it. Sitting around it, I recognized some of the people which had greeted me upon my arrival; others were completely new to me. The entire group stood up when I entered the room. Two older gentlemen dressed sharply in dark suits complete with handkerchiefs came up to me. They seemed very formal and distinguished and greeted me with polite phrases as well.

"Bergdorf! I'm very pleased to meet you in person..." the older of the two with classic gray streaks in his hair reached his hand out toward me and quite obviously avoided looking at my body at all. I must have been quite modest-looking next to him. But most amusing to me was his name: Bergdorf, which meant mountain village in my native tongue. Hadn't I just come from there? Once again, a joke wanted to cross the threshold of my lips, but I restrained myself this time too. And I was afraid I might seem eccentric.

"The pleasure's all mine..." I decided to reply politely instead and turned to the second gentleman who was equally euphoric in introducing himself as "Mr. Seitz". As I sat down at the set table, I realized how long I had been separated from the civilized world and I was extremely anxious about what would come next. As it appeared, dinner would be the next order of business. I soberly noted how the cultures were not so different in this aspect. However, I would choose this dinner here over the other any day, because no one would intrude into my room later to harass me. This awareness allowed me to differentiate things better. When Mr. Bergdorf spoke to me again, I looked at him attentively.

"Ms. Lepore, we know that a six month imprisonment is unusually long for a citizen of the Federal Republic of Germany. Therefore, we all the more want to express our sincere high regard for your perseverance and celebrate the completion of the ransom negotiations", the man said, in a somewhat stilted manner. I furled my eyebrows and noticed how I had lost all patience with conversational phrases. The same kinds of conventions seemed to be in use everywhere to protect people from following their uncontrolled instincts. What were conventions good for otherwise? But I had not forgotten them.

"Thank you gentlemen. But I suspect the credit goes all to you. But let's get to the point, please," I gave a brief, but polite answer. The men looked at each other and nodded towards the others to introduce them to me.

"This is the police chief of Srinagar."

With a grand gesture, Mr. Bergdorf continued and introduced the interpreter to me and their own personal assistants and then sat down at the table and put his napkin in the proper position on his lap. Everyone else followed his example, so I did too.

"Ms. Lepore, we are pleased to have you back safe and sound. Speaking from experience, this is unfortunately not always the case..." Mr. Seitz started speaking and didn't look as if he had understood that I didn't desire any useless banter.

"My dear sirs", I insisted again. "I'd like everything to be kept short and sweet. Please take this into full consideration in the course of the discussion."

Mr. Seitz's gaze fell instinctively upon my midsection. He nodded and they quickly started on their endless list of questions, during which a sumptuous 4 course meal was served. The representative of the human rights organization took some notes of his own during the conversation. Mr. Bergdorf and Mr. Seitz had their secretary take notes for them. The chief of police of Srinagar leaned over to his interpreter who whispered into his ear. Additionally, the session was being recorded. The tone of the discussion was sober, judicious and professionally distant. At times, it almost seemed to me that I was at an interview for reapplying for citizenship. They wanted to know which persons I had met, what their names were, where their current "base" was, what kind of weapons they had and how big the group was as a whole. In return, I learned that my kidnappers had been classified as being part of a sub-group of a well-known terrorist organization in the region, which was previously unknown to the agents of the Indian government. This fact made the case especially interesting to all of the participants. However, the representatives of each party entrenched themselves behind their own political interests and positions. The exchanges became increasingly aggressive, even hostile. I found it interesting that the Indian government had apparently not put in much effort in concealing their neglect in handling this case. The months-long collaboration, including the political calculus, seemed to have created a sober and frigid atmosphere. And I wasn't able to give them much useful information, which was something that everyone present had a really hard time believing.

"Normally, the place where the hostage is kept is changed at regular intervals," Mr. Seitz explained to me.

"Maybe because they are a sub-group they don't see it necessary," I argued.

All at once the chief of police seemed as if he were put in a tight spot and explained to me that the group was by no means unknown to them, it had just not resorted to using hostages as leverage before. Following this statement, Mr. Bergdorf pressed his fingertips together and frowned.

"Well, I'm a bit surprised by the fact that we've been in contact for months but haven't received any information at all about this group."

The police chief remained unfazed and had his interpreter relay that any information provided would have jeopardized the victim, which Mr. Seitz criticized as being an excuse "pulled completely out of thin air". And in this fashion, their personal little war continued. Their sophisticatedly conducted dispute tired me. Finally, I looked around at the group and asked the only question whose answer I had been waiting for months:

"And where is Mr. Arnault? What happened to him?"

All eyes immediately turned to me. I gave a restrained smile and felt how the child was acting up. For a millisecond, I looked down and was able to see my belly move where it kicked.

"He's in London," Mr. Bergdorf delivered a brief answer. I looked at my hands, which rested firmly folded on the table.

"Has he been harmed?"

"No, not that we have been made privy to."

I nodded, somewhat annoyed, since the men seemed to be reluctant in providing me much information. I took a deep breath and unlocked my hands.

"How did it come to be that the French authorities managed to free him so much faster?"

"They came to an agreement with the kidnappers more quickly."

I was irritated. And a bit angry about these quick and simple answers.

"Did it have something to do with Mr. Arnault's status as a public figure or did the French intelligence agency have better information?" I asked and raised an eyebrow. Mr. Bergdorf leaned back. Mr. Seitz cleared his throat.

"Well yes. It is indeed true that in his case there were no discussions about the amount of the ransom. Mr. Arnault was quickly released. The French authorities didn't want any public attention drawn to the incident.

Speechless, I looked back and forth at the men. Mr. Bergdorf took over explaining.

"In your case, it was impossible to bring the negotiations to such a quick close. We suspect that your captors felt they were unable to make a handover, because you're condition didn't allow it. We also surmise that, ultimately, they endeavored to use these facts to their tactical advantage. Your case will help us to see things with a different perspective if we are met with similar reluctance to negotiate again. Knowledge gained from each kidnapping case is applied in the resolution of future ones."

That made sense to me. Mr. Seitz looked up from his notes on the conversation and crossed his arms over his chest.

"I'll be honest with you. Abductions of citizens are a very touchy subject. We can't just simply pay the demanded sum or free an active terrorist in exchange in the hope that it will never happen again. The opposite is to be assumed. Especially if a government gives in too quickly," he began to play nervously with his pen. "Admittedly and in all probability, we would have needed even more time in your case if Mr. Arnault hadn't pressed for bringing the negotiations to an immediate end. He took it upon himself to pay the difference remaining between what the kidnappers demanded and what the federal government was willing to pay. We agreed to Mr. Arnault's proposal on the condition that it would be handled by an independent mediator. In this way, we were able to avoid any misunderstanding about the willingness of the Federal Republic of Germany to pay. To pay such an unusually high sum for a single hostage can greatly undermine the sovereignty of a country and lead to its citizens abroad being seen as fair game. Our task, however, is to protect citizens!" Satisfied with his remarks, Mr. Seitz leaned back, as my tense body leaned forward. A strand of hair fell in my face. My heart was beating fast. Very fast.

"Mr. Arnault did what?" I asked in disbelief.

The two men both cleared their throats at the same time, before Mr. Seitz began to speak.

"We decided, contrary to our other principles, to accept Mr. Arnault's proposal. Also in view of the fact that you had been in captivity for so long and the negotiations had come to a standstill. The fact that he used a separate intermediary who clearly distanced himself from our negotiation politics made it possible for us to go ahead with this solution."

I swallowed and got up. Every fiber of my body was shaking and I almost burst out into tears.

"How can I get in touch with Mr. Arnault?" I hurriedly asked.

"His office in London will surely help you with that. We will give you the telephone number before you fly back to Germany tomorrow. By the way...would you like to call your sister? She is picking you up from the airport."

"Has she been informed?"

"Yes, of course. Relatives are the first to be informed."

"Then it will be better if I first see her in person. Is...does Mr. Arnault also know?"

"I can't answer you that. He paid his sum first. A silence clause was agreed upon regarding the details of our final payment in order to not jeopardize the negotiations in any way. There was only a guarantee that it would take place within the next six weeks unless the kidnappers demanded more. Luckily, this didn't happen." Mr. Seitz opened up a folder, fished a business card out of it and casually handed it to me. I saw on it the address of the office in London. I turned the card around in my hands and stared at it for a few seconds. My heart was troubled. When I looked up, the eyes of all those present were on me. I smiled nervously and stood up in a fidgety manner.

"Gentlemen, I ask you to please excuse me now."

Everyone jumped up quickly and the man from the aid organization escorted me to my room, continuously wanting to talk. I took the liberty of asking him to respect my wish not to do so.

"Please listen, I have enough information to process for one day. I don't need any further explanations at the moment."

Looking somewhat insulted, the man kept silent from then on and upon nearing my door gave me a forced nod and departed. No sooner had I entered the room, I leaned against the back of the door and felt the business card in my hands. My gaze drifted to the ceiling. It was white and clean and the Gecko, which I almost expected to see, wasn't there. Instead I felt a violent pulling in my abdomen that took my breath away.

"Come on baby, tomorrow it's over..." I whispered and sat down uneasily on the newly-made bed. My gaze fell to the Buddhist chain of pearls on the nightstand. I hoped that my mental strength would be enough to appease the restless nature of the child. I didn't know what was agitating me more: the stabbing pain or that these officials were going to keep me waiting in this room forever. The demands were too high for them, but not for Daniel. It appeared as if he was the only one whose actions had made my release possible. A part of me felt just as in love and unjaded as I had been months ago. I felt a strong desire to be with him and hear the sound of his voice. Confused, I looked down at myself. But, a lot had changed and I could once again do nothing but wait. Luckily, it looked like it wouldn't take quite so long this time.

The next morning at nine o'clock, there was a short exchange of information with the agents and before I knew it, I was on my way to Delhi. From there, I had a connecting flight to Munich. I found the trip to be stressful and it was taking too long. I shifted uneasily back and forth in my seat and counted the hours. It was impossible to sleep. And I hadn't been able to sleep half of the night before either. I was glad I had called my sister in the morning, who promised to make me feel at home. When I asked her to buy new clothes for me, she was just continuously crying and wasn't able to speak a single clear sentence. I hoped that she had understood me and with a sigh prepared myself to once again take on the role of comforter. But the first thing I wanted to do was to try to get in touch with Daniel's office. I had to speak with him, even if my feelings were completely unreliable and inconsistent at the moment. An elemental fear of facing him began to grow in me, of having to ask him to partake in a paternity test and to discuss all of these things. Nevertheless, I was extremely interested in finding out how he had been – and how we would get along after all this time.

Finally, after the hours which seemed to have no end, the flight attendant announced in the early morning hours that we would soon be landing. I fastened my seat belt and tried to get the pain in my abdomen under control. As the cabin lights went out in preparation for landing, it seemed to me that the child was doing everything it could to object its arrival in its new home. I closed my eyes and felt how the new life inside me was planning an arrival all of its own. This was a very strange feeling. My fingernails dug into the armrests as the machine touched down. So far, so good.

My sister was in tears and was armed with a huge bouquet of flowers when she received me at the airport. No one else was there that I recognized. I was grateful that she hadn't informed any of my acquaintances because I didn't really feel like dealing with a jubilant welcoming committee and my desire to talk after the long flight was even less than before. I hadn't spoken in months and wasn't in the mood for a spontaneous retelling of my wretched story. No one could understand how it felt – except maybe Daniel. Suddenly, I felt the pressing arms of my sister around my body. She didn't stop crying at the airport at all. So I was the one who had to slowly lead us in the direction of the taxi stand and calm her down. I continually emphasized that there was nothing to be sad about. She constantly kept looking in disbelief at my belly. I didn't like it, but I had learned to deal with a lot of unpleasant things.

"Marie, please settle down..." I repeated again and again, almost hypnotizing myself in the meantime. It seemed to me as if I had completely forgotten that my sister had so far been the child that I had taken care of and I made an effort to do my job again for now. On the way to our shared apartment, Marie begged me to never leave again. I stroked her hair which was very similar to mine. I felt a cramp-like pain in my abdomen which had now become much more recurrent. Exhausted, I looked out the window and thought only about talking to Daniel, but that would only be possible once my sister had settled down. I decided to let her try and get all of the crying out of her system for as long as the drive took and kept looking out the window at the now seemingly idyllic Munich. Everything here appeared to be easy to understand and well-regulated. A unique kind of diffident charm emanated from the apartment buildings built in the 50's, the orderly flow of traffic and the age-old taverns. All of it provided an unbelievable feeling of security. There was nothing exotic to be seen here. All of these impressions I took in from behind a glass wall until the taxi turned into my "old" street in the Isarvorstadt district. Then I reminded my jabbering sister that she had to pay. The taxi driver was so friendly as to help us carry the luggage up to the third floor and all at once I found myself standing estranged in the middle of my old life. I slowly went down the long entrance hallway and saw my elegant shoes sitting there, my summer coat hanging on the coat rack and it felt as if I were in my own museum. Reluctantly, I made my way into the spacious living room. My sister followed me and, now that she was once again in the safe haven of the apartment, decided to take over as caregiver herself.

"Sit down, dear. Standing so long isn't good for you. Would you like something to drink? Are you hungry?"

To be alone for a moment, I had her go prepare some tea for me. She immediately ran to the kitchen and I gave a sigh of relief. The air in the high-ceilinged rooms smelled familiar and strange at the same time. Slowly, I went over to the bay window and pushed the white cotton curtain aside a little. The bare branches of the trees on the opposite street side looked like the hands of an old witch. I looked down and saw clean vehicles parked in orderly rows. Here and there, people mostly dressed in sporty outdoor jackets as well as one obligatory jogger could be seen. I felt like a stranger in the world I found myself in. What should I do now? I carefully pulled Daniel's office number out of my pocket when the telephone suddenly rang. I turned around to go answer it when I felt a sharp sting in my lower abdomen. I cringed slightly and, breathing heavily, braced myself with one hand on the chair next to me at the dining table. Marie hurried into the room but wasn't paying any attention to me. She violently grabbed the receiver and angrily shouted into it:

"Stop harassing us already!"

She immediately hung up on whoever it was and defiantly put the receiver back. I had never seen her so determined before. Then she saw me.

"Rosalie...! What's wrong?" She rushed up to me and grabbed my arm to help support me. A good thing, because the pain of the cramping suddenly became so intense that I was barely able to stand.

"Marie, please call a taxi. I think...I think I have to go to the hospital," I told her, out of breath and gritted my teeth together.

"What's going on Rosalie, tell me!" my sister cried in a shrill voice and remained motionless in front of me. This was the Marie that I knew.

"Call the taxi now, damn it!" I shouted back in a sharp tone. Her selfish anxiety got on my nerves and I sensed that I now had to get to a doctor as soon as possible. There was no way that I wanted to deliver a six month old baby in the middle of my apartment where it was highly probable that it wouldn't have any chance of surviving at all. I was suddenly overcome with panic and nothing could happen fast enough for me. I pushed Marie to the telephone and heard her awkwardly call for a taxi as I quickly went into the bathroom. I wanted to take off the miserable clothes and take a shower, but the power of nature allowed no time for it, so I had to make do with a quick trip. While my sister continued to nervously ask me question, I instructed the driver to take me to the university hospital near our apartment. There they reacted speedily and professionally, which calmed me down a bit. They attached me to a fetal monitor and at the same time took a blood sample. Then they hurriedly put an IV on me which was transported along with me to every imaginable examination area. Also into the hospital room where I would have to stay the following days. A new room again – and another one that wasn't mine. It almost seemed to me as if I didn't want to make it home anymore. A short time later, the doctors and nurses gave me the feeling that everything would soon be ok again. I was relieved. Despite my ambivalent feelings about this being, I in no way wanted any further drama to occur. This child had already developed too much. It was alive. And a symbiotic relationship had grown between us. However, the outlook offered to me by the treating physician frustrated me nonetheless: inpatient care, continuous infusions for the contractions including cortisone which was very important for the functioning of the child's lungs...

"You'll have to put up with this for at least three days or I can't promise you that the lung activity of the child will improve. If there is any spontaneous deterioration despite the medication, I estimate the chance of survival being very low," the physician soberly stated. I looked at my hands whose fingers were pressing together and gave a forced nod. It still wasn't over. I wasn't free. My prison had just transformed into a German hospital and I could have cried in despair that I was bound to a new bed that wasn't my own. The situation offered me a similar radius of possibilities as the one I thought I had just escaped. The physician took leave in a friendly manner and I turned to my sister who had watched everything with tears in her eyes.

"Marie..." I asked her with great urgency in my voice. "You have to give me your full support now. Please. I have to speak with Daniel Arnault. I have his office's number in my notebook, bring it to me please. I have to talk to him."

"You can't get yourself worked up Rosalie and that's all this man does to you. He's only attracted bad things into your life."

Stunned, I looked at her...

"What are you talking about? Marie! Wake up! This man could possibly be the father of this child!"

"What do you mean, possibly?"

I took a deep breath and noticed how my heart began to race – and it wouldn't stop again. Neither in the coming days, nor the nights. I swallowed and looked up at the ceiling then I glanced briefly at the older mother who was also a patient in the room. I could tell that she was silently listening, but decided that I didn't care who was listening or what they would think, because I had no patience left for taking conventions into consideration. Quite the contrary: things of that nature would just take my strength away which I couldn't afford at all at the moment. I looked directly at my sister who had a tense expression on her face.

"Marie. There is a lot that you don't know and it's not easy for me to discuss it here...but it is possible that the father of the child is one of the kidnappers."

I observed how her and my roommate's minds were synchronously contemplating what I just said. And the thoughts seemed to be very dirty. I swallowed. It was a kind of training for when it was necessary to explain something in an environment which neither knew of such a phenomena nor wanted to accept it.

"What are you trying to say?" Marie asked, stunned. My eyes fixed on my sister's plump lips which had slight cracks and I decided to make it short.

"It was rape, Marie."

In almost the same instant as I spoke, I saw tears run down her cheeks and began to feel compassion as well as a silly feeling of guilt. The situation seemed unreal to me. Maybe because Marie was moved so quickly or because I would have liked to cry over this dark episode in my life myself. This time, I didn't do anything to comfort my sister and simply continued to say whatever popped in my head.

"It's over with. It's okay now. Stop weeping over my life. I'm not you and I'm okay. You are 21 years old and we are together. We just can't live symbiotically anymore. It's not good for either one of us."

She sobbed her heart out and suddenly, more aggressive than impulsively, blurted out:

"You're just saying that because you've fallen in love with this man!"

I gave her a dumb look as she was already getting up to suddenly storm out of the room. Before I knew it, the door slammed shut and I was alone with my roommate. She cleared her throat and seemed uncomfortable as she looked into her magazine with an unflinching gaze. I thought about how the competence of people in difficult situations left a lot to be desired and I felt my heart galloping off into nowhere. At that moment, I wasn't sure if it was only the side-effects of the infusion therapy the doctor's had described causing it. Exhausted, I laid back on the pillow and stared at the ceiling. My rational mind encouraged me by stating that this situation was completely manageable. In a way, I could even understand Marie's reaction. I could not ignore who she was, her naivety and how very sensitive she was. After all, due to my sense of responsibility, I had always supported her child-like behavior. But now a necessary period of change also seemed to have begun. As was the case with everything else too since my departure to Kashmir. Such phenomena must exist where life is subject to radical change. Suddenly, I was reminded of my parents' death. This situation was almost inhumane; however, it did yield one thing: unsuspected strength. And everything would surely work out this time too. Just not right away. I turned my head when I heard that my roommate hat put aside her magazine. I decided to speak to her:

"Excuse me. We didn't get a chance to introduce ourselves to each other yet. My name is Rosalie Lepore."

She reacted quickly and impersonal.

"Mrs. Witten," she turned onto her side with her back facing me. I sank back to the pillow and sighed resignedly. I was sure the absurd scenarios would be over with sometime in the near future.

The next morning, a middle-aged man I didn't know came into the room who seemed to be very quiet and careful. He had red hair, was wearing a casual flannel shirt with a pattern of red squares and approached my bed cautiously.

"My name is Herbert. Anton Herbert. Ms. Lepore...?"

"Yes?" I said with a blank expression.

"Ms. Lepore. It's a pleasure to meet you. You've been through a lot in the past months..." he started to speak, almost awkwardly and looked me in the eyes with an ambiguous expression on his face. I soberly looked back and nodded. He cleared his throat and continued.

"I'm here to tell you that you won't be alone on your path to recovery. This hospital is proud to have a psychiatric crisis service unit – something which, in the meantime, is not to be taken for granted."

"And what do you want with me?"

"I want to help you!"

He waited for me to reply, but I just took a deep breath in order to assure him with a brief blink:

"Mr...Herbert...I have to point out to you that the crisis is already over. As far as I can tell, I'm in a safe place and I consider myself to be in stable condition."

He cleared his throat again and, without being asked to, sat down on the chair next to my bed. I almost feared he would hold my hand as he continued:

"Well, victims of violence often develop a kind of protection mechanism..."

"And? They shouldn't?" I stubbornly interrupted him, but was quite interested in his answer. He seemed a bit taken aback and laid his folded hands on his lap.

"Yes, of course. It is just a natural process, but if it becomes a problem..."

"Then I'll get in touch with you," I finished his sentence for him. I saw that my counterpart didn't know what to think of me, but conversely I knew exactly what I thought of him when I saw him sitting uneasily on his chair. I had always been of the opinion that one should take care of their own problems instead of endlessly moping about them to others. To me, it was clear that Mr. Herbert was wasting his time, but Mr. Herbert himself still had some doubts:

"I would be delighted if you could go back with me to the origin of your true feelings," he further insisted.

Disturbed, I furrowed my brow. I looked at him and found him to be latently intrusive.

"At the moment, dear Mr. Herbert..." I pointed at the IV next to me, "...that is controlling my emotions. I'm sure when this monstrosity has been detached from me I will get back to being myself again quite rapidly. If you want to help speed up the process you should talk to my doctor instead. But I fear you won't get very far with him. In any case, thank you for wanting to help and I'll get in contact with you if there are any problems that I can't solve myself," I smiled at the man politely and indicated that I was a little tired.

"Well, of course...you can count on me anytime," the man nervously placed his card on my nightstand and left the room just as silently as he had come in. I became distinctly aware that there was only one person I wanted to see and that was Daniel. I had no interest in people who were more insecure about my situation than I was myself. However, in the case of Mr. Herbert I was almost amused because it seemed like he wanted to use my story to validate and increase the importance of his own life – I didn't want to experience anything like this with any of my acquaintances either. At least for now. I alone had gone through these things – and I had survived them. I had no pressing need to report details of my story to those who were just curious and not involved. If someone wanted second hand excitement, I mockingly wanted to tell them to go watch TV.

In the afternoon, Marie surprisingly visited me at my bedside. I could tell by looking at her how much it bothered her that she had overreacted in such a way and she gracefully and enthusiastically apologized. Since I wasn't the kind of person to hold grudges, it wasn't hard for me to restore peace, especially when she said that she had called Daniel's office. I excitedly sat up and pulled my knees up towards me a little.

"And? What did they say? Were you able to speak to Daniel?" I asked, impatiently. My sister didn't answer right away but instead looked down at her toes anxiously.

"Well, they said that Mr. Arnault didn't want any contact," she finally answered in a small voice while pawing with tip of her shoe at the floor.

"What do you mean by that?" I shook my head in disbelief. "Who didn't want what...?"

"I can't tell you much more than that either," she explained and shrugged to show her regret.

"What exactly did you say when you called?" I asked.

Marie rolled her eyes ostentatiously and looked a little stressed as she reluctantly continued.

"I introduced myself and told the woman on the phone that you were back in Germany. Then she interrupted me and said that they had already been informed."

"Good," I nodded slowly. "And then?"

"Well, that you wanted to talk to Daniel. But the woman just stonewalled me and informed me that Mr. Arnault wanted to abstain from any further contact."

I leaned forward only to let myself fall right back on the pillow again. Stunned, I looked at my sister who appeared to be shrinking away.

"Marie, that can't be..." I insisted, upset.

"I can only tell you how it was and nothing else. The woman emphasized that she hoped you would understand and that she wished you well for your future life. There's nothing more to tell you than that. After that she said goodbye."

"Who was this woman?"

"His secretary."

My gaze fell upon my roommate's empty bed and I was glad that we were alone in the room. A wave of dismay rose up and crashed down on me. It developed into a massive Tsunami. It seemed to me as if I was being tossed about while foreign objects kept hitting me out of nowhere, water filled my lungs, I gasped for air and my vision became cloudy.

"Rosalie, is everything okay with you?" I heard Marie's voice come from next to me, but I had finally been driven over the edge. All at once, I couldn't sit or lay still anymore. Restless, I slipped out of bed and began to pace back and forth. I barely noticed how the IV needle was being pulled out of my arm or that Marie had jumped up frantically to push the IV stand around behind me.

"Rosalie, be careful! Please, you have to sit down!" she insisted, but I barely paid any attention to her. For a while, I walked back and forth silently contemplating the meaning of what I had just heard.

"Did this woman know what it was about?", still in denial, I pressed my sister to answer and saw how she earnestly nodded.

"Yes. She even said your name!" her voice screeched in my ear.

"Why did she say my name?" I asked, confused.

"Jeez! I said I was Marie Lepore and then she said to greet Rosalie Lepore for her."

If that's what was said, then Marie's statements were the truth, like it or not. Frantically, thoughts raced through my head, which started to suddenly ache. I continued to faintly hear my sister's voice, but I was busy in my own world, which continually asked only one question: How - can - that - be - possible?

Of course, a lot of time had passed in which Daniel had been able to continue on with life in safety and I didn't see him as being someone who mourned losses for a long time. Nevertheless, we went through a dramatic experience together and he had paid my ransom. Voluntarily! Why would he do that if he didn't want to have anything to do with me anymore? Out of nowhere, I suddenly thought of the story about Satsuki which I didn't give any further consideration to at the time. The puzzle pieces in my head started to form a new picture. Didn't he take her to his set too – just like he had wanted me to do only one day after her departure? Hadn't he courted me just a little too quickly for a man who had just come out of a committed relationship? Fragmented details of the two days we spent together were replayed in my mind's eye and the truth embedded itself painfully in my heart: I had naively succumbed to the charm of a womanizer, just like a goddamn sixteen-year-old. How blind had I been? It was probably Daniel's usual tactic for entertaining himself when he wasn't shooting. Daniel Arnault probably just always needed the validation he got from a new conquest and thousands of women were standing in line to fulfill his wish. Most likely he only paid a part of the ransom because his conscience was bothering him and he wanted to buy my silence. I noticed how my autonomic nervous system was about to short-circuit. I stood still and felt my sister's hand on my arm.

"Rosalie...!"

"Marie, get me a doctor right away!" I said. And Marie ran.

I was standing in the middle of the room and felt an unnatural breakdown coming on. I had lulled myself into believing in an illusion the whole time! My reactions had only been my mind's way of protecting me from the truth so that I had a better chance of surviving my captivity. Now I saw facts, which I had only considered trivial until now, in a new light and they began to turn my heart to stone. Numb, I sat down on the bed and began to feel ashamed for not having seen it coming. Annoyed, I rubbed my eyes and tried to get my panic-ridden system back under control. Shortly afterward, the doctor together with me came rushing into the room. A nurse was right behind them.

"Ms. Lepore, how do you feel?" the young doctor asked me.

"Oh..." I snickered somewhat hysterically. "One should always appreciate the truth and I just got bad news. It doesn't go will with the drug cocktail in my IV. To be exact: I'm feeling quite...out of it, if you know what I mean."

The doctor nodded and began to take my blood pressure.

"Nurse, 5 ml Diazepam." The nurse rushed away and the doctor removed his stethoscope.

"180:100. We're going to give you a sedative. You'll begin to relax right away then. Don't worry."

"I don't want any sedative. I want this damned IV off of me..." I protested and somewhere in the back of my mind I reminded myself of my sister.

"Ms. Lepore you are six-months pregnant. Your child's lungs aren't functioning normally yet. If we remove the IV now, your child won't receive any further cortisone infusions and if you then have a miscarriage, your child will die. Would you like for that to happen?"

My breathing faltered.

"No...no, of course not. Please forgive me.", I backed down.

"That's a wise decision. Already starting tomorrow things will look very good for securing the survival of the child."

"And what happens then?"

"Then we will continue to monitor your contractions and give you more medicine as needed." The nurse entered and, after the doctor confirmed it with a nod, put the sedative in the IV. In the meantime, he made a few notes and then gave me a confident smile.

"If you find you can't tolerate the side effects of the fenoterol, we will continue to administer diazepam. Don't worry. You're in the best of hands," he said and left the room.

Despite my inner turmoil, I accepted what he said.

"The doctor should have given you that a long time ago!" my sister said with conviction once we were alone in the room again. I felt the child brutally change his position in my body and I began to cry uncontrollably. My sister put her arms around me and just a few moments later a blanket of calmness begin to spread out over me. The larger the blanket became, the more I didn't understand why I had just been so unhappy. I had just been wrong. That happens in life. Even if you're not a teenager anymore. I had escaped captivity – so what was the problem? If the child was his, we would come to some kind of agreement – or we wouldn't. I couldn't force anything. I watched the door open and saw my roommate walk in who wanted to continue having nothing to do with me. She probably didn't want her perfect world disturbed. She had her baby with her. It was a boy. I thought it looked monstrous and huge. An alien. I laid back down and my sister laid the cover over me. Slowly, I grabbed her arm and asked her the same question again:

"Are you sure that the woman knew who you were?"

Marie nodded vigorously and looked very exhausted. I closed my eyes and began to sway in my drug-induced artificial world. I was alone. In an unreal world where peace unsuspectingly had come to reign. That's the way it should be.

After five days of electronic fetal monitoring, blood tests, diazepam and fenoterol, I felt like a living test-tube in a chemical factory. The child hardly moved at all anymore and I had distinct feeling that it was time to get off of the Valium, especially because the fetal monitor wasn't registering any activity anymore. I asked the doctors during their rounds whether it might be time to think about taking me off the medication for a while. But they found my suggestion to be completely unreasonable and just shook their heads.

"That wouldn't be advisable at this point in time," the doctor on duty commanded with a stern look. I wasn't satisfied with this answer because I had been half-asleep in a trance for days and had no idea how I was _really_ doing. I wanted to be the old Rosalie again, someone who was interested in the world and not some hollow shell in a bed anymore. So I went on badgering the doctors and shortly thereafter got some unexpected good news. During the next rounds, it was decided to stop administering the medication for a 24 hour period and document the further developments. I was very happy to hear this and patiently waited for the next 12 hours, which would reveal whether there would be further complications. There weren't. It seemed to me as if the waves had subsided.

So I decided to go on a short walk. The cool winter air would do me good and clear my mind. As I exited the hospital, I spontaneously had the idea of taking a little detour to my apartment. It wasn't very far away and I would be back in an hour at the latest. Maybe I could take a quick bath and call Daniel's office. In the end, I didn't trust Marie with having adequately carried out the task. Maybe I would be successful in finding out why Daniel wanted to avoid any contact with me. It would help me to get some clarity and peace of mind, because the worst thing of all was not understanding the recent developments. I wanted to know why, because then I wouldn't be tapping in the dark with my thoughts and would have some orientation.

The temperatures were cooler than expected, mainly because my winter coat wouldn't close over my belly anymore. But that didn't bother me. It had been a while since I was able to move about freely outdoors and now I found myself walking through a park and I took in deep breaths of the icy air. Almost with the eyes of a child, I watched as the ducks with their thick winter plumage greedily went after the food that an old woman had been scattering out for years there in winter. She looked familiar and I stopped and listened as she talked to the animals. I gave her a faint smile and stood next to her.

"Haven't you ever wondered why the number of ducks here in the park hasn't increased over the years? They do live to be relatively old, if I'm not mistaken and bear offspring every year..." I asked, staring at the gray feathers of one of the animals.

"They take some away. Every year." The woman grumbled back in a rude manner as if I were to blame.

"Where to?" I asked, surprised. The woman looked at my belly with her little green eyes and turned away.

"God only knows..."

I watched as she took her little cart and walked away without another word.

"How peculiar..." I said aloud to myself and slowly started walking again. The world seemed to be topsy-turvy. Was I crazy or was it the people I met? I watched my own breath condense in the cool air and looked around. Behind the last hill of the park was the street where our apartment was. I could already see the building. Suddenly my attention was drawn to a scene which was disrupting the normal comings and goings on the somewhat higher situated street. I saw a taxi come to a stop directly in front of my house. Two photojournalists were hectically positioning themselves near the front door and were apparently shouting out things to each other. Their movements were nervous and they had their cameras held up in front of their faces. I curiously watched the events and then my eyes caught sight of something unbelievable:

Up there, Daniel Arnault quickly made his way to the waiting taxi and disappeared into it in the blink of an eye. I stumbled a few steps forward and heard myself calling out his name in disbelief. At the same time, my heart began to race and my vegetative nervous system immediately reacted. The taxi sped away while the reporters laughed and gave each other high-fives. I stood there completely distraught. I was sure I wasn't seeing things and the presence of the reporters confirmed my theory: that person up there must have been Daniel! It couldn't have possibly been anyone else. Confused, I realized that he must have come out of my building. I started to move and my mind was churning. I should have known that the press would have been interested in our story – even if I hadn't thought about it up to now. It became apparent to me how much the last months had had an effect on my ability to think straight. I hurried to climb up the last small hill that separated the park from the street. The reporters had already vanished. I mulled over the events for a moment and pulled my scarf over my hair. Ultimately, I had no idea what in the world was going on here. Nevertheless, what I had just seen shocked me, because one thing was certain: Daniel was here! But what was he doing at my apartment?! Why were reporters following him? My sister hadn't reported any unusual events to me. But these reporters seemed to know more than my sister. Marie had to be at home and I had to get to her. I quickly looked both ways before hurriedly crossing the street. As fast as I could, I unlocked the front door of the building and, not paying any attention to my physical condition, hastily climbed up the stairs to the third floor. I opened the door to the apartment and slammed it behind me. It made a loud resounding sound which seemed to shake the whole house. I looked around and called out my sister's name. There was no one to be seen. I went towards the living room door which was opened by Marie in the same instant. I rushed towards her, frantically. Her eyes were as big as saucers and she looked startled.

"Rosalie! What are _you_ doing _here_?" she asked, horror-stricken. My hands reached her first. I grabbed her shoulders and looked at her searchingly.

"Marie, he was here, wasn't he?! I just saw him getting into a taxi...Marie...what happened? What did he say? Where is he? Where is he going...?" Out of breath, I shook my sister who looked perplexed and shrugged her narrow shoulders. Her head moved back and forth as if she wanted to deny something. Her chapped lips were trembling. "Marie! Talk to me...say something! I have to talk to him!"

"What...what do you mean?" she reluctantly said in a strangely impersonal manner. Stunned, my hands slipped off her shoulders and I looked at her body which seemed to be shrinking away from me.

"Marie, what's going on?!" But I didn't get an answer. My sister stood there motionless before me with downcast eyes. My gaze fell on the couch where, due to its soft cushions, I could easily see which places on it had been sat on. And there were indeed impressions on two of them. I thought I wasn't seeing straight. I stubbornly looked at her.

"Marie...what just happened here?" I impatiently pressed her to answer and waited. One second. Two seconds, three....

As I found myself getting nowhere and just staring at the part of her hair, I began to vent my anger.

"Dammit, you're going to tell me right now what's going on here! I just saw Daniel Arnault get into a taxi in front of our building being followed by reporters and I want to know why. The least you can do is give me some kind of answer! I'm pregnant Marie...and this man is the only one who can help me find out who the father of the child is...so please talk to me!" I watched as my sister bit her lower lip in indecision. She fidgeted with her hands nervously and then unexpectedly raised her head.

"What are you doing here anyway? You're not supposed to leave the hospital!" she cried impetuously.

"I would already be on my way back if you would have the decency to explain to me how this scene down on the street came to be. Marie...." Again I grabbed her upper arms. I wanted an answer and right away. I watched how her eyes started to fill with tears, but that wouldn't get her out of it. Not this time.

"Daniel came out of this house. I saw it with my own eyes," I insisted. "What's he doing here in Munich and why was he here – in my apartment?"

"This is still our apartment!" she cried and suddenly pulled herself out of my grasp. I was stunned by her reaction and an extremely uneasy feeling suddenly overcame me. Resignedly, I took a step back. A vague idea of what was transpiring manifested in me.

"You're afraid, aren't you?" I asked in a menacing soft voice.

"Rosalie, stop saying such things..."

My sister began to tremble and looked more helpless than ever before.

"You're afraid of something..." I was surer every second.

"I just want to help you..." she meekly whined. I felt how the joints of my spine adjusted themselves. Distance began to grow between us. My voice sounded even strange to me when I answered in a tone that was anything but friendly:

"Stop living in an imaginary world! You're an adult now and I am too. This is _my_ life and I have a right to know what happened. So, for the last time: tell me what Daniel was doing here..."

"Nothing but stirring up trouble!" she almost hysterically blurted out. "He is a terribly egoistic person only interested in his own well-being. He thinks he can buy women..."

I was speechless, because the first part of what she said sounded like a description of her own personality. It seemed to me that she was using Daniel as a scapegoat for all of her troubles. The puzzle pieces that needed to be put together began to take shape in my head.

"What or who here is supposed to be for sale?" I harshly asked.

My eyes watched her every move. My sister struggled for words and looked clueless. Strands of hair fell into her eyes and she blinked at me, scared.

"He..."

"Yes? I'm listening..."

"Leave me alone..." she suddenly cried out helplessly.

"What - did - he - want? I leaned down towards her. My voice now also had a threatening shrill sound to it. She shook her head. I grabbed her shoulders and ruthlessly shook her. She freed herself quickly and stumbled back.

"Just do what you want!" she yelled. "One way or the other, you always do what you want. You're like him. You're a perfect match. But I'm not going to let it happen! No one can ask that of me." Upset, she ran out of the room and shortly afterward I heard the front door slam. I stood in the middle of the room alone and could see every individual speck of dust swirling in the air. I sat down on one of the chairs and took a deep breath. Every cell in my body seemed numb. What had happened?

I hadn't gotten any information out of Marie at all and wondered whether the reason for her strange behavior was something she had done or Daniel. It sounded like she was trying to hide something. But what? What was she not willing to say and what made Daniel come looking for me here in person? What did the two have to talk about? I feverishly searched for answers in my mind and found my black notebook lying on the lower shelf of the living room coffee table. I bent down to pick it up when suddenly my abdomen was struck with monstrously intense pain. For a split second, I saw a blinding flash before my eyes and listened in horror as thunder spread out in my body. I fell to my knees and reached for the book. Even though I was quivering in pain, I quickly turned to where the page was supposed to be on which I had written down Daniel's office number. But it wasn't there. Frantically, I paged back and forth until I realized that someone had torn it out.

"Why?!" escaped my lips as I casually threw the book aside and crawled towards the telephone. I had to call an ambulance. Right away. I knew that it wasn't a false alarm this time. It was time. And I would have to hurry.

It all happened very quickly. The paramedics carried me down the stairs and told me I had better cover up my face.

"How come?" I asked, out of breath.

"There are photographers out there who are taking pictures of anything that moves..."

I was grateful for their warning and heeded it. We had barely gotten past the threshold when the flashing and clicks of the shudders began. The voices of several people excitedly shouting could be heard and I took the sheet that they had thrown over me and pulled it over my head. All I saw as I peeked out from under it were a pair of feet jumping back and forth frantically. I was relieved when the door of the ambulance closed and I could get this all over with in private.

No sooner had we arrived than they immediately began to prepare me for surgery. The doctors performed an emergency C-section because my water had already broken. A short time later a baby girl was born. She weighed just under two pounds, was thirteen inches tall and had dark hair. I hardly got a chance to see her because she was taken to intensive care right away. Immediately following the birth a strong sedative was also administered to me so I couldn't remember anything else. I stared off into space and could barely keep my eyes open. I was probably asleep for most of the time, because when I woke up what felt like only minutes later, I was already in some kind of rehabilitation room. I raised my head up briefly and looked around the room in a daze. I was alone. With a sigh, I let my head fall back onto the pillow and closed my eyes. When I opened them again, I was already lying in the glow of a bedside lamp and a nurse was there.

"How are you doing? I brought you some water," the nurse asked and came up to my bed.

"Not bad. Not bad at all. What time is it?"

"It's 11 p.m."

"Oh..."

I took the glass from her hand and drank it with slow sips.

"What about the baby?" I asked, somewhat anxious.

"She is in stable condition. There's no need to worry. You can already go visit her tomorrow morning."

"Oh, that's good news."

"We tried to reach your sister, but no one answered."

"Okay...all right. Why should she?" The woman was a little puzzled by what I said and soon left me alone in the room again. I laid still, arms next to my body on starched sheets and waited. A state which I had involuntarily became a master at being in. The course of events in my recent history had been tumultuous and the new developments weren't allowing for any inner peace to set in either. The doctors let me know that they would call for me. And I would heed their call so that I could see who my little daughter was and what she looked like. I was now quite excited regarding this new life and the irrefutable desire to unconditionally support this unknown being grew to fruition almost all by itself. And, in fact, I didn't have to wait long the next morning until they took me to the neonatal ward in a wheelchair. The scar was still too fresh to strain and I fiddled nervously with my bathrobe in excitement. For me personally, the ward was a shock. There were incubators standing around everywhere in which different babies were lying that all had one thing in common: how tiny they were. And the tiniest was my own. When I first saw this being, I leaned forward and began to stammer.

"Oh my god...she's hardly human," I whispered in astonishment and I looked at the nurse who nodded in an understanding manner.

"All vital signs are within the normal range. Until now, there haven't been any complications. Knock on wood!" She explained to me that I could caress the little one through the provided openings and quietly talk to her.

"Hearing your voice again will be good for her. Have you had milk let-down in the meantime?" I absently shook my head and the nurse left me alone. At this time of day, there weren't many other parents there and I felt bitter when I saw that the ones who were there were almost all married couples. I took a deep breath and watched as the child flailed around with its arms and legs. Her skin seemed paper thin and you could clearly see the veins through it. Very fine, downy hair covered its body and the skin looked wrinkly and old. The face did too and looked like a pug dog's. It was impossible to determine who the father was by looking at it. I sighed a long sigh and noticed how I was beginning not to care whose child it was and why it had been brought into the world. The most important thing was that its condition was stable. I sat for an hour with my daughter and began to befriend her. For the first time, I began to think about what her name should be and decided that it would have to be an exotic name – because "Emily" or "Paula" certainly didn't fit the circumstances of her conception and birth. Suddenly I was reminded of a report I happened to see once. The child, who it was about, had been born in Africa and became separated from its parents during a mass exodus only to be reunited one year later in a mystical way. I had found it to be quite a fascinating story and the name of the girl was Selassie. I looked at the baby one last time before the nurse asked me to leave the ward and I decided that this name suited her. When I met with the doctors a short time later, they bombarded me with all kinds of negative information. They told me about all the complications that could arise due to the low birth weight – and that was more than just a few. I tried to keep my chin up and shake off the fear of it dying or becoming handicapped. But when the words began to form a nightmare in my head, I asked the doctors to cut it short.

"Thank you for the detailed information, but as long as my child's condition hasn't deteriorated, I kindly ask you to only inform me regarding positive developments and necessary measures. I hope you can understand that after the hardships of the past few months I don't want to hear anything about negative things that could possibly happen."

The two men jumped up, somewhat taken aback, and nodded as they took their leave. I was satisfied with myself. That was the Rosalie I knew. And she had never been interested in being told what to be afraid of – a practice in mainstream medicine that I had always been suspicious of. And that's why I resented that they talked about the beginning of my baby girl's life in such a negative way.

After five days, I was released from the hospital. I became aware that I was once again free and could do what I wanted, such as sleep in my own bed again. This idea seemed unreal and tempting at the same time. In any case, I wanted to do it. I would have a discussion with my sister and we would have to find a solution together for how things were going to be in the future. Maybe the time had come for her to find a small student apartment of her own. Our apartment, which we had inherited from our parents, was certainly big enough to accommodate the baby too, but I interpreted the sign of the times to be calling for change: after everything that had transpired, I found it impossible to pick up where I had left off and continue to deal with Marie's neediness. After my last encounter with her, I could hardly imagine raising a baby with her in the apartment either, since she just wasn't mature enough in my opinion to be able to handle something like that adequately. Although she did graduate high school with flying colors and immediately got accepted by a university and was studying business administration, she would have to develop certain social skills she was lacking on her own now – without constantly looking to me for reassurance. Almost happy, I realized that the birth had given me my freedom in a way. I wasn't afraid of setting things straight with Marie or seeing Daniel again. Unexpectedly, things were once again under my control. And, after all of the uncertainty of recent times, I knew how very much to appreciate it.

After leaving my room, I still spent a few hours with Selassie. I talked to her and caressed her with my index finger. According to the nurse, her heartbeat slowed down then. Touched, I smiled and felt a mixture of devotion, helplessness and fatalism. I looked at her tiny face searching for clues to her origin. Did she look like me or Daniel or were there any Afghan traits recognizable? Despite my best efforts, I couldn't tell. I had to think about Daniel and how terrible it was that I hadn't been able to inform him, because I was sure that he would be very interested in all of this. But I hadn't heard from anyone so far – not even from my closest relative – my sister.

So I finally left with my luggage and took a taxi to our shared apartment and attentively looked out the window. But there were no photographers to be seen or any people waiting in cars. I gave the driver a big tip and asked him to carry my luggage up for me then I got out, when I saw a second taxi stopping behind me which was in turn followed by a gray compact car. I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw Daniel hectically swinging open the door of the other taxi. The way he looked at me made all my hairs stand on end. At the same moment, two men with cameras hopped out of the gray car and immediately began their work: taking pictures.

"Daniel, what..." I said in disbelief.

"Come. Hurry..." He grabbed my arm and pulled me to the front door. I hastily got my key out and opened the heavy wooden door. My taxi driver didn't know what to think and just put the suitcases down at the front door.

"Not on your life! I don't want anything to do with this!" he scowled with traditional Bavarian flair – loud and blusterous. Then he turned on his heel and lumbered back to his car. In the meantime, the two men with their cameras had made it to the building's open front door. Daniel and I were in the entrance hallway trying to close the large old door. However, the hydraulic closer prevented it from shutting quickly. The cameras flashed at us through the opening. I quickly held my scarf in front of my face and turned away. Daniel cursed until the door finally and quietly shut.

"Do your doors always shut so slowly?" he asked with an irritated expression.

"I...well, just this one." I took a deep breath and realized that my body was shaking like a leaf. He looked at the suitcase he had pushed into the building with his foot.

"Come on, let's go upstairs," he abruptly said. I felt dizzy and just automatically nodded. My eyes watched how his body bent down to my luggage. He picked it up and without looking at me again began going up the stairs. I immediately realized that my feelings about him hadn't changed over all the months, but he didn't give me any sign that it was the same with him. Distraught, I followed him up the stairs and looked at his back. An unidentifiable pain started in my center and spread outwards. My diagnosis was heartache. When we reached the third floor, I stepped in front of him and silently unlocked and opened the apartment door. We went in. Incidentally, I noticed that my summer coat wasn't there to greet me this time. Marie must have put it away. I looked left and right, listening to see if my sister was there, but all was quiet. Even Daniel, who was standing behind me and had put down the suitcase, didn't say a word. Anxious, I turned to face him. To my surprise, I realized that his body still had the same gravitational pull on me. Waves flowed from the still fresh scar on my abdomen up into my chest area, completely unsettling me. I heard myself clearing my throat and began to feel increasingly awkward. Feeling insecure, I began to stammer out conventional nonsense:

"Would you like to take you jacket off? Can I offer you something?"

He looked down at me with an icy stare and the spacious entrance area suddenly turned into a threateningly narrow hallway.

"Yes." The orange in eyes was almost completely missing as he pulled off his jacket. "The truth!"

I nodded out of nervousness without understanding exactly what he meant and took off my coat as well. I still had a maternity dress on, which was a beige and rose-colored empire gown with a low V-neck. I felt a little ashamed. Why exactly, I didn't know. I took his jacket and hung with my coat on the rack. Then I turned to face him again. His face now had an emphatic expression for a few seconds, completely different from the one before. But it didn't last long. No sooner had I looked at him than he resignedly turned and went into the adjoining living room.

"You know your way around?" I asked, surprised.

He hastily turned to me and seemed upset inside.

"Yes, indeed. In the meantime, I've become very familiar with this place."

"What do you mean?" I asked, confused.

"How are you Rosalie?" He abruptly asked with an undertone of irritation.

"Fine....thank you. Now I'm doing just fine." Troubled, I sat down on the sofa. We had arrived in the living room and the way he was talking to me made me weak in the knees. His gaze literally pierced right through me.

"What's going on here?" he started in.

"That's what I would like to know too," I soberly stated.

"Don't feed me a line!" he quickly retorted.

"Dammit, I'm doing no such thing! I don't even have the slightest idea of why you're so angry," I replied just as upset as him, if not more.

"Who called the press, Rosalie?"

"The press?" I shook my head in disbelief. "It certainly wasn't me."

"Oh..." he angrily turned his back on me and walked over to the large bay window. I watched the smoothness of his movements and my eyes began to burn terribly. I felt great despair and disbelief arise in my heart. It couldn't be that we were fighting like this after just seeing each other again for the first time!

"Daniel..." my voice sounded frail.

"Yes?" he turned and came towards me with quick steps. He stared at me. "I trusted you. And I was convinced that there must be some kind of mix-up. I wanted to hear it from you that you're not interested any more. I've been sitting in a plane for days, flying back and forth like an idiot..." He took a deep breath. "Now, I've come for the last time, because I have to know why _that_ was necessary too." He motioned with his arm towards the window. I suspected he meant the photographers. His gaze seemed like an open book to me and at least as full of pages as mine. Only I couldn't decipher his handwriting and remained helplessly lost. I kept looking in his eyes, searchingly, until he looked away.

"That shouldn't have happened. It's betrayal," he hissed and made a disparaging gesture, which made my chest tighten.

"What mix-up? Not interested? What are you talking about?"

"Don't be so shallow!" he replied, afflicted.

"I can say the same to you," I patted the white sofa cushion, frustrated. "Why are you talking to me like this? How can we figure this out if you're talking in riddles?!"

"Rosalie..." he approached me again with a dangerously fiery gaze. "I wouldn't have believed you had it in you...and I'd like for you to explain the spectacle outside to me."

I had had enough of his ambiguous allusions.

"Daniel, what do you want from me? For days I've been trying to reach you, but..." I hesitated. At this point, a complex situation began to unfold.

"But what?" He looked at me like a panther getting ready to lunge itself at its prey. I leaned forward and spread my fingers out on the fabric of the cushion.

"...but your secretary informed me that you wished me the goddamned best for my future life and I have to say...I found that to be extremely _shallow_! If that's so, what the hell are you doing here and blaming me for something I don't know anything about? For _months_ I haven't laid eyes on a newspaper and you should hopefully know that! I was breathing heavily. It couldn't be possible that he was only thinking of himself.

"My secretary?" He turned to me in disbelief, his eyes wide open.

"Yes!" I replied defiantly. "Your goddamn secretary!"

"Rosalie, stop with this nonsense. I don't even have a secretary!"

I paused, as if struck by lightning.

"But Marie told me..." I stammered and tried to keep my composure. Daniel now listened attentively and slowly sat down on the couch. I could see the contours of his thighs through the fabric and the brief look caused an inner kind of pain. We sat in mutual silence. I felt torn and angry at the same time. Nervously I considered whether it could be that Marie had lied to me – and had just made everything up? At that moment, I heard his voice again and he slowly started to speak:

"Your sister...she banished me from this apartment two days ago. She said if I ever tried to get in touch with you again she would call the police and that I should finally respect your wish."

His voice suddenly sounded calmer and softer, more like I was used to. A strong force was pulling me towards where he was sitting.

"And just exactly what wish was that?"

"To not have anything to do with me."

"Oh, my god..." I swallowed. Everything that was previously inconceivable suddenly became all too real. Marie had conspired against me.

"You...you don't have a secretary? Maybe an agent...?"

He shook his head, and looked at me with a penetrating gaze. "When I left this building on Monday, it was the first time I saw reporters here. Since I'm sure the Foreign Office didn't give your address to the tabloids, I assume that the tip came from someone you are associated with. Coincidences like that just don't happen."

"Marie doesn't even know how to call for an ambulance, let alone how to inform the press", I tried to defend her.

"But you do..." he said. I gave him such a sharp look it could have cut him in two. He lowered his eyes. I knew that his suspicion instantly became an embarrassment to him.

"What did the press report?" I asked.

"You don't know?"

"No," I replied, tired, and continued to stare at his thigh. He seemed to be moving individual muscle groups out of nervousness. My scar below my navel started to throb.

"It was _the_ headline this week in the tabloids. I only read the first part..."

I looked at him questioningly and had no idea what he was talking about.

"The news spread throughout the media, Internet, etc.: you were admitted to the hospital, because I had beaten you. Including photos."

"What?" Surprised, I sat up straight. I almost had to laugh, because it was so silly. I couldn't believe my ears. My gaze fell on the matte screen of the turned-off television. I feverishly tried to figure out what it all meant. Slowly, very slowly an idea started to take shape.

"...could that have been 5 days ago?" I slowly asked.

"Exactly 5 days ago. The first report was on Tuesday in Germany. The English press enthusiastically jumped on it then too and since then almost everywhere I go reporters show up. I can boast that I'm under 24 hour surveillance in London. People with cameras are jumping around me and asking why I hit you! It's a disaster." He rubbed his eyes and seemed very tired.

"I understand. But these pictures were taken five days ago? I suspect around noon, here in Munich, right?"

He looked at me with interest and I noticed that all of his anger seemed to have vanished and I began to feel closer to him again.

"And there's no picture of us together, I presume?" I deduced further.

He nodded and leaned forward.

"How do you know that?

I wanted to see the state of the orange in his eyes and noticed that it had meanwhile become too dark outside. A bit slowly, I got up and turned on one of the floor lamps. It flooded the room with a beige-colored light and cast some bizarre shadows on the high ceiling. I hadn't been home in a long time. I went on over to the bar and switched on the lights there as well.

"I don't know anything at all. But luckily I am able to think logically again," I replied and turned around to face him. "Would you like something to drink?" I asked.

"Yes, that would be good."

"Vodka? On the rocks?"

"Straight."

I poured two glasses and continued to think things over.

"I don't think that Marie told the press. She wouldn't be able to come up with such an idea and even if she did, she would be too easy to influence. Then they would have been waiting for _me_ in front of the hospital too. Nevertheless, it is odd that I haven't heard from her in days. Although..." I was pondering out loud, when he broke my chain of thought.

"Why were you in the hospital?"

I paused for a moment, because I knew right away that more of the truth was going to come to light.

"Well..." I replied cautiously and handed him his drink. I saw how ambivalent his gaze was and I turned away from him. It caused me physical pain. Now I was the one who went to the bay window and looked down at the street. My heart was pounding loudly. On the street below everything was quiet and peaceful. As was almost always the case in Munich.

"Well, the matter is quite complex. I'll tell you in a moment."

I turned around and walked back slowly.

"In any case, I believe I know what photographs you are talking about. I can be seen in them on a stretcher. You probably left the building a short time before. Is that right?

"He nodded. I nodded too and held out my glass in his direction. We touched glasses and our eyes met once again. It was an incredible moment, because I knew that he was genuinely interested now and had stopped blindly accusing me. We drank without taking our eyes off of each other. I liked him a lot. I looked at his shoulders and felt his body calling to me. At the same time I had to think about the baby in the incubator attached to tubes and breathing machines. I closed my eyes for a moment and longed to touch its tiny body. In the same instant, I sensed Daniel's body being so near.

"Rosalie, is everything alright with you?" I heard his voice.

I opened my eyes and looked at him, almost cheerfully.

"Yes, everything is just fine..."

I sat back down on the couch where he was still sitting on one of the armrests and I noticed the strong effect just the two swallows of alcohol were having on me.

"So, I'll start from the very beginning, okay?"

He nodded and I noticed that I had his full attention. I believed I could tell that his body and soul wanted to be with me again. It was a good feeling.

"I saw you on Monday."

I saw that his hand moved restlessly.

"I left the hospital without permission and was on my way home. I wanted to call your office and hoped to find out the reason why you didn't want any contact. I had hoped to thereby gain more clarity. Everything seemed so absurd, because Mr. Bergdorf had told me that you had even paid part of the ransom..." I swallowed and turned the glass in my hands. "I have to thank you for that, because they themselves admitted that my release probably wouldn't have happened so soon without your help. But you probably know that yourself..."

The corners of his mouth twitched. There was something unfathomable in his eyes.

"I don't want you to thank me for it. It goes without saying. I...- it had to be done." His eyelids sank and he fell silent. I went on telling him how I saw him and the reporters and then got into a fight with my sister, but then I stopped. I bent down and pulled my black notebook out from the coffee table shelf to briefly postpone the further explanations.

"Your number was supposed to be in here, but..."

I opened it and then handed him the book. He let it lie in his hand, not paying any attention to it.

"...a page has been torn out. It was the page that had your number on it. The business card was removed too. I assume Marie did it...even if I don't quite understand what the sense of it was..." Our eyes briefly met and we exchanged serious looks. Distraught, I realized that I was getting closer to the point which would be the hardest to for me to tell.

"You couldn't call..." he helped me.

"Yes..."

"And what happened then Rosalie? Why did ambulance come for you? Why were you in the hospital?"

"I had been there since returning to Germany. I...I had just gotten away for this one short hour since they had taken the IV off of me...and I just wanted to have control over things myself again and..." I noticed how I was struggling with my words more and more. I became very nervous.

"Why did they have an IV on you? What happened?" He asked calmly and laid the notebook on the table. Slowly he leaned in my direction. His hand was resting on the backrest of the couch and almost touched my shoulder. His gaze had the effect of a turbine spinning inside me. I shuddered and looked away. I breathed in and out. I could barely contain myself because it horrified me so much that I had to talk to him about _this_ now, even though I wanted to get it behind me and finally know who the father was. I looked at my nearly half empty glass and then into his eyes, which were looking directly at me.

"I had a premature birth," I didn't keep him waiting any longer. I thought I saw his orange flecks move like free-floating planets in space.

"A..."

Time came to a standstill.

"A premature birth," I helped him complete his sentence, calmly. "It's a girl. And it was born into the world by C-section on the date in question. An hour after you left this apartment. The reporters were on the scene when the ambulance came and they took pictures." I watched as his hand slipped down off the backrest. "The child is thirty-four weeks old and will probably not need the incubator's breathing machine starting tomorrow." I felt that something monumental was happening.

"She has been in stable condition so far..." I continued, "...which isn't to be taken for granted for such a premature baby. I'm very proud of her."

I realized for the first time how relieved I was that there hadn't been any further complications. And that every day meant another new step into the future. Suddenly all of it wasn't such a burden anymore. I was just happy that this baby girl was alive. It also didn't really matter who or what was the father. It was here now. And soon would be with me.

"Thirty-four weeks...?" It sounded as if he had to repeat it to be sure.

I nodded and drank the last swallow of the vodka. There was silence again for a short while. I stared at my glass and turned it in my hands, lost in thought. Finally I turned my head and was met by a gaze that was as boundless as the universe itself.

"Does that mean that we have a child together?" he slowly asked.

"Yes...unfortunately no...but maybe so...I mean – I don't know."

I stood up, took his glass and went to the bar again. My forward escape was successful. I was free. Taking the initiative, I filled both our glasses with vodka again.

"When we met, I was on the pill. To be exact, up to that very evening, where we surprisingly didn't make it back from the city." I turned around and, bearing a slight smile, brought him his drink. He reached for it and our fingertips touched briefly. For a fraction of a second, our eyes met and then broke contact just as quickly. It was a moment which seemed to actually not have existed. Too fleeting. Too powerful. I didn't feel like sitting on the couch now anymore. What would happen next would be up to each of us individually. I leaned against the dining table which was situated in the back of the room and continued with the explanation. I was very pleased that he was giving me his undivided attention.

"I'm sure you remember that I didn't have anything else along with me at the time..."

Then he couldn't avoid the formation of a weak smile by his lips either and nodded. I sat down on the table before I continued.

"And from then on I had no chance, so anything was possible then, but..." I swallowed and looked down at my boots, which had some worn spots.

"But..?" he inquired.

A wave of nervousness crashed into my body and almost swapped me off the tabletop. I fidgeted with my hands.

"Daniel, there's something else that happened. It concerns..." I stopped. I looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. "Do you remember the man that looked like the younger brother of the leader – at that _place_?"

He nodded firmly and appeared to be going back centuries in his memory.

"Yes, I can remember quite well. I saw him often there."

"He...well, he came into my room and he..." I looked away, directly down at the dark brown tabletop. I saw the scratched marbling of the antique teak wood and suddenly felt as old as it. I had no idea how I should put what had happened into words. Actually I didn't want to say a single word about it. I hated it and didn't _ever_ want to be reminded of it again. I noticed how abruptly he looked up and his gaze struck me like an arrow. He immediately got up and resolutely walked towards me. I felt him embrace me without out a word and unconditionally. He held me tight. Very tight. My face was pressed against his chest and I breathed his scent in deeply. He held me as I'd never been held before. Now, nothing bad could happen anymore. I was safe. I was home. My hands carefully clasped around his back. I closed my eyes and noticed that I was trembling and all of my courage gave way to the emotions I had suppressed during all these months. They overwhelmed me and I began to cry. I felt how his arms held me even closer. He stroked my hair, kissed my crown and pressed my head against his chest. I have no idea how long we stood there like that. A lot of time must have passed until I settled down again, until he put his hand under my chin and raised my head so that I had to look at him. His orange was profound and surrounded by white borders. I sank into it, as if into an ocean.

"I'm staying here?" he asked.

"If you want..." I laughed, happily and in a silly and excited way all at once. I wiped my eyes with my hand and looked up, uncertain. I was simply blown away by the unified intent which silently arose in our spirits. His hand embraced the back of my neck urging my lips towards his. They tasted of vodka and I never wanted them to leave me again. Everything about him seemed perfect and full of passion. I melted in his arms which at the same moment picked me up and carried me in the direction of my bedroom.

"I know the way," he remarked with a cautious smile.

I looked questioningly at him, but he didn't say anything and instead took me directly to my bed, letting me slide gently down onto the sheets. He sat down beside me and looked at me with very bright eyes when he finally replied:

"During my first visit here, I asked Marie to allow me to spend some time in your rooms. She showed me your study and this one – and then she really did leave me alone." He looked a little bitter as he recalled the memory. "I was able to smell you. But your spirit was very far away."
He began to untie my knee-high boots and looked very concentrated while he was doing it. I felt tired. And relieved. And blissful. Because the sorting out of everything had begun.

"When were you here for the first time?" I asked.

"Three days after I was released. Four weeks after we were separated."

He let the first shoe fall to the hardwood floor. It took a moment for me to grasp what he had said. He had come here _right away_! And no one had found it necessary to tell me about it until now. When it had finally sunk in, it left me stunned and he had already continued to speak.

"After a half an hour, Marie asked me to leave this room again. She said she didn't know if it was in your best interest."

He looked disenchanted and began with the untying of the second boot. His movements now seemed to be much more adept.

"My God! She never told me about any of this..." I said in a flat voice while great disquiet spread out inside me. My gaze wandered searchingly to the ceiling. "Why is she making things so...so..."

"...strangely complicated?" he asked and let the second boot fall to the ground with a thud. With slow movements, his body laid down next to me. My heart skipped a beat. I felt how every single one of his cells was soaking up my energy and then returning it with a different coding back into my body.

"Your sister..." he started in. "She really is somewhat peculiar. But you..." The focus of his eyes was suddenly fixed on my face. "You're beautiful. I want to apologize that I ever could have thought any different. But to tell you the truth, I'm very glad that I was wrong..."

He slowly leaned down towards me and embraced my lips with his. I could feel how covetously and gently they touched me. Shortly afterwards, he released them and his eyes looked at me with alarming intent. It took less than a second before he leaned down again to kiss me with even greater intensity. I felt how all of my organism's blood platelets began to rotate at a furious speed. All of my nerve pathways could _sense_ his lips. I could _feel_ how every fiber of my being longed for him. An irresistible pull began, but he soon broke our embrace. Puzzled, I looked up. The waves ran off into nowhere. I had a hard time calming my breathing back down and my fingernails dug deep into his skin.

"When you were gone..." He stroked my hair soothingly. "...it became apparent to me that for the first time in my life I _really missed_ something."

I swallowed and closed my eyes.

"You're with me?" I asked, somewhat tense.

Then I saw them, these crooked teeth in the left upper row and I became aware of what I had already almost forgotten: his most beautiful smile.

"Rosalie, I was never gone. A part of me was always with you. The whole time. Every day. I...I just couldn't get you out of my head." He laughed a little nervously and ran his hand over the small and, in the meantime healed, scar on my cheek before he continued to speak: "You should know that for some periods of time there was absolutely no exchange of information with the kidnappers. Sometimes I waited until what seemed like forever until some sporadic information came. There was never any concrete proof that you were still alive. The authorities told me that this tactic was quite unusual because normally such people have a keen interest in speeding up ransom negotiations. To be so powerless was very difficult to bear."

"Yes," I replied in a completely calm state. "The uncertainty was the worst part."

"What happened Rosalie?" he asked and I knew what he was getting at. I shook my head slightly and lifted a hand up to put my index finger on his lips.

"It's over with," I insisted. "It's not important anymore now. Tell me about you instead! I...I want to know everything!"

He gave me a strained smile, and then looked at me in an extremely serious manner. His hand cupped my chin and he let me know he wanted me to look deeper into his eyes. All at once, it seemed to me as if I were sitting on a very high swing. A wave went through my stomach. Dizzy, I listened to his words.

"I've waited too long, Rosalie. I need to know what you experienced. I have to know because I have thought way too much about it. I want to finally have a real clear picture of it." He rested his hand on my hip and lay still. I looked at the white bed sheets and absurdly wondered about why Marie had changed them in my absence.

"Yes, okay...I understand..." I replied haltingly while I felt the warmth from his hand seep into my body, sending me a kind of healing energy.

"I will tell you," I continued and hesitantly eventually began my account: about the house they had brought me to, the women there, the first night and its hideous ending. After a short pause, I told him about when I woke up from my coma, how I didn't know how much time had passed and how I was nursed back to health. His attention followed me like a silent shadow. Sometimes he asked me intimate questions that I didn't really want to answer. However, I noticed that what I was telling him wasn't separating us but in a way bringing us closer together. His hand rested on mine. Now and then, it gently stroked my collarbone. He never took his gaze off of me and I felt more and more relaxed. I loved lying next to him and looking into his eyes, whose craters were moving in slow motion. They seemed like orbiting planets of a self-contained solar system to me.

"And I even got to see you on one occasion...." I chatted on, almost relieved to have gotten to the end. He raised his eyebrows inquisitively. Now, almost exhilarated, I told him about the short report of the Arabic news broadcast. He almost had a look of disbelief on his face and laughed in amazement.

"Rosalie, Rosalie...then you sort of managed to attend the premiere!"

"Yes, in a manner of speaking..." I nodded and smiled weakly. "Unfortunately, I didn't know where it was, but these images gave me some crucial information: that I had been in captivity for far longer than my confused calculations of the time passed held for possible. Not being able to trust my own mind anymore was a bad shock. Despite it all, I still thought that the premiere had come unusually early...- or am I wrong?" I asked, uncertain, and looked up.

"No, you came to the right conclusion. The production company worked like crazy to get it done, because they didn't want the movie to be connected with the kidnapping story which would probably sooner or later be discovered by the press. I didn't want this intimate story to go public either and the government for sure not. In the first days after my release, I wasn't interested at all in finishing the movie, although I was in good physical shape, since they treated me with care, in contrast to you. However, after negotiations with those responsible for the film at the production company, I decided to go through with it, just to have something to do. They didn't waste a single second. The screenplay was dramatically shortened and the rest was shot at dizzying speeds in the studios."

"And?" I looked at him questioningly. "Did the principle of profit maximization work?"

"At the box office?"

I nodded. He turned to lie on his back and looked at the ceiling blankly for a moment.

"Considering that the critics really tore the movie apart, the whole package worked very well. I don't have to mention that the shortening of the movie didn't make it any better. But after fulfilling my contractual promotion appointments, I didn't have anything more to do with it."

"How did you spend your time then?"

"Trying to see you again."

His body turned again towards me and I saw that smile and felt how my lips began to throb heavily.

"Kiss me..." I whispered, mildly aroused. He gave in to my demand. Our lips began their game. Only he was able to play with me like this. I had never before been touched so gently, lovingly and passionately at the same time. My hands dared to venture further. I sensed that my being near him greatly excited him too and I relished in his body seemingly feeling just as helpless as my own. Without warning, he pushed me away from him a little. My lips burned and I struggled to open my eyes.

"Rosalie, I'm sorry, but it's driving me crazy..." All at once he looked exhausted. My hand rested on his chest and I could feel how fast his heart was beating. It was easy for me to understand how he was feeling. I wanted to wholly be with him too, but I wasn't allowed to. The doctors had forbidden it.

"We still have to wait a bit. But not much longer." I reassured him and myself at the same time. "Why don't you tell me about your experience? What was is like for you at this place?"

I wanted to distract him, because a very weird situation had just come about. We both began to laugh.

"Where were we...?" he asked, finally relaxed.

"You were talking about what you had missed..." I smiled and opened the top buttons of his white shirt. My eyes were magically drawn to his skin. There was an absurd tension between our bodies. My lips searched for where his neck met his shoulder and buried themselves in it. I was met by small electric shocks as I pushed the fabric away bit by bit and enjoyed the feel of his skin.

"Do you remember the Buddhist chain?" I asked as I swore to myself to stop touching him now. He nodded. I looked up, somewhat shyly.

"I always carried it with me. It was a kind of elixir of life for me and reminded me that I couldn't have just imagined you. This certainty was very important for me. At least in the phases where I was awake. I even talked to this chain. Sometimes. For brief moments." Embarrassed, I laughed. All of a sudden I felt silly. However, he seemed to understand exactly what I was talking about and immediately excitedly replied.

"When I was sitting here in your bedroom, I looked around and considered asking Marie if I could take something of yours with me..." He looked at the nightstand and picked up a small glass snow globe which had a Santa Claus merrily laughing inside and shook it a little. The snow spun around wildly under the small glass dome.

"This small thing...I don't know why, but I was captivated by it. But I quickly realized that taking it with me wouldn't change anything. It was very depressing to come to grips that nothing would make it any easier. No thing would do the trick either. It was impossible to replace you with an object and it became clear to me that things..." He set the snow globe back down. "...will always be just things. They increase our longing and this little snow globe would have continuously reminded me of what was out of reach – and of my own powerlessness. It was a nightmarish realization because I didn't want any things in my life. I wanted you."

"You found the snow globe interesting?" I asked and gave him a somewhat surprised look.

"I don't know either. It drew my attention like a magnet, even though I find such decorations rather silly."

Touched, I looked at the laughing Santa Claus in whose globe the snow storm was slowly letting up.

"My parents gave it to me taped on the outside of a Christmas present as a little joke. The next day was when they left to go on a four-week tour of Africa. They landed in Windhoek and wanted to go to the Etosha Pan two days later. But they never made it there." I paused. "...the rest you probably know. I bet Marie told you. She tells everyone about the tragedy."

Surprised, he looked at me.

"Yes, that's right. Marie talked about it for quite a long time..."

"There's nothing right about doing that all the time," I stated. "It's true that it was a horrible accident but it's been over with for some time now. You have to let the ghosts of the past rest."

He nodded slightly while I watched the last snowflake fall to the bottom.

"In any case, the snow globe was the most intimate possession you could have found in this room because it brings back images of my mother wrapping presents for us the day before Christmas Eve. She always loved doing that. By chance, I caught her doing it and without being noticed watched how she clumsily tried to attach the snow globe to my present. Even if it sounds a little absurd and is kind of trivial: it was the last truly intimate moment together in our lives."

Our eyes met and locked.

"Don't say it's trivial. Things are often more intertwined than we think...or are ready to believe."

"I'm ready," I replied and felt my heart beat faster. He smiled when he sensed my inner excitement. His arms surrounded me and nestled my head on his upper arm.

"You don't have to be afraid." He paused for a moment and we listened to the old clock that ticked loudly in the hallway outside the bedroom. "I don't know why, but I love you, Rosalie."

Meanwhile, my heart was pounding so loudly that I thought it would drown out the sound of the clock and my lips pressed against his wrist. I could feel his pulse against my lips with its steady rhythm. It calmed my weary soul.

"Daniel, will you tell me what happened to you there now?" I calmly asked and wanted to look up, but he pressed my head gently down into crook of his arm.

"Tomorrow, Rosalie. Tomorrow. After we have visited the baby. Tomorrow evening, when I take you out to eat. Tomorrow, when we will be together...-when you will be with me."

I felt him rest his lips on my crown and his breath. I closed my eyes and continued to listen to the old clock, whose ticking suddenly mixed together with that of his wristwatch to create a new time. My eyelids became heavy. I would close them – just for a short time...

When I awoke, I was alone. I opened my eyes and looked at the white sheet next to me. No one was there. I quickly sat up and restlessly brushed the strands of hair out of my face. I could _sense_ that he wasn't in the apartment. I became slightly dizzy. The silence that surrounded me seemed eerie to me. I looked around and saw my alarm clock. It was just past eight-thirty in the morning. Our conversation must have gone on until late into the night and, as far as I could remember, I had simply fallen asleep. At least the wrinkled sheets next to me proved that I hadn't just imagined it all, because I still mistrusted my mind sometimes. I got up out of bed and slowly went from one room to the next and my eyes were only met by silent emptiness. I crossed my arms nervously and look helplessly about. Now another chain of events that I didn't understand had already started. Where had Daniel gone off to? Why did he leave? And where was my sister actually, who I hadn't heard from in days and usually never went out much. She seemed to have vanished without a trace too. Something like this had never happened before and was unthinkable! At the same moment, the phone rang. I turned on my heel and stormed into the living room. Out of breath, I picked up the receiver.

"Hello...?" I asked, excited.

"Hello Rosalie."

I heard a voice that seemed familiar to me but couldn't immediately place.

"Yes...who's there?"

"It's me, your old buddy Martin! Broadway Hotel. Srinagar. Rooftop bar!" I was completely stunned and sat down on the armrest of the couch where Daniel had sat down just yesterday when he was surprised.

"Yes, of course. Hello Martin! How are you?"

"That's rather a question you should be asked."

"Oh, fine...just fine."

"I thought I would check in with you once now that you made it out too. There was quite a fuss in the media in the past days..."

"Yes, apparently," I replied, a bit unsettled. "Unfortunately, I didn't hear anything about it."

"Oh? Nothing at all? How is that?"

I searched for appropriate words.

"Until now, I had been busy with too many other things."

He laughed his deep throaty laugh. I almost thought I could see him in front of me.

"Yes, I understand," he went on. "So Arnault unleashed on you?"

I laughed nervously.

"No, not quite like that..."

"Oh, then how?"

"Martin, it's nice that you called, but..."

"Exactly!" he interrupted me. "I'm a nice guy. So let's get to the point."

I was silent for a moment and then hesitantly asked him to clarify.

"And what would that be?"

"You moved up to Arnault right away back then..."

"Yes, and?"

"Unfortunately, things went awry, but no one could know that they would snatch you away like that out of nowhere. I hope you got through it all okay?"

"Yes. I made it. Thank you."

"Well, I thought you would! Listen up dear...I have some good connections and for a percentage of the profits I can offer you interviews at the best conditions. I've been able to negotiate excellent deals with the English and German media."

I ran my hand over my forehead, somewhat perplexed, and took a deep breath.

"What do you mean? What exactly are you talking about?"

"About your story, of course. The more details you reveal, the more you can earn. I thought you could really use a little cash. I'll sell everything for you – exclusively! That is what you wanted! Back then you already wanted to grill Arnault or Kitson and, after all, I was the one that brought you together with Arnault."

He continued to laugh obstinately into the receiver. His attitude became unbearable.

"Listen, Martin. I don't want to have anything to do with something like that. In the meantime, things have taken a completely different course."

"What is that supposed to mean? You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours. I just want to help you, because I assumed you've had enough of doing travel reports for the time being." He laughed as if he had come up with the joke of the century. "This is your chance. You have to strike while the iron is hot, and right now it's glowing! Other people have agents – you've got me."

I cleared my throat and suddenly it became crystal clear to me: he hadn't offered me a place to stay at the hotel free of charge – he had only done it so he could profit off of any information I might happened to get. My blood ran cold. The shame of the Rosalie of the past threatened to catch up to me.

"Martin...I'm sorry, but you've got the wrong idea about me."

"Okay, then I'm wrong!" he blustered. "But what about your sister? Is she wrong too?"

My heart-rate shot through the roof.

"Marie? How do you know Marie?" I asked, a little too excitedly.

I've been paying for your little sweetheart's hotel room next to mine for days already. She's very needy - and so delicate!"

"What are you talking about? What are you trying to prove? Where is Marie? I have to speak with her. Right now!"

I got up and began to pace back and forth nervously with the receiver against my ear.

"It seems to me like your long stay abroad has had a negative impact on you. This isn't the Rosalie I know at all."

"Spare me your comments and tell me where my sister is!" I roared.

"I just told you. She's taking a bath over in her room. Arnault is apparently all you can think about and him you, so I just decided to take care of the rest of the family. What else could I do? Always at your service!" His voice sounded particularly treacherous when he added: "How's the baby?"

I almost hung up and it took some effort to maintain my composure and ask with a controlled voice:

"What exactly do you want?"

"I want to be as well-off as you. Daniel Arnault is worth millions. And I want to carry home a package for myself, just like we all want to, right?"

"So why are you wasting your time and calling me?"

"I think you owe me a certain debt of gratitude..."

"How in the world do you figure?"

"Does Arnault know that you didn't just check into his hotel by chance? I made your reservations in the name of the production management. That was a very nice thing for me to do, since his wing of the hotel was top secret. I thought I could count on such an open-minded person."

Stressed, I bit my lip and became more infuriated by the second.

"What a pity that you apparently can't rely on me at all. Go right ahead and tell the press about all the news that you don't want to deprive the world of. Have at it. I bet no one will be interested."

"Oh, I see. You suddenly aren't interested in good stories anymore. You're above that now. I wonder how long that will last..."

"Don't you realize that you're talking nonsense?" I interrupted him angrily. He was starting to get on my nerves.

"Then we'll make it short and simple," he quickly replied. "Your little sister is very flexible. Then she'll just have to tell the story. Unfortunately, I can only get half of what I could get with you, but better than nothing. In the meantime, I've had quite a few lengthy conversations with her and she has come to realize that she's lost her sister to a superstar. If you aren't there for her anymore, then there's still me. At least Marie can count on me! As I can on her stories."

"You leave her alone!" I angrily hissed.

"Don't worry, I'll be careful! Come on Rosalie, stop the hypocritical act! Isn't it true that you shamelessly threw yourself at Arnault? You must have made quite an impression or he wouldn't have shown up again. And just as soon as he did, you threw your orphan sister out in cold blood. Not to mention that Arnault put extreme pressure on her. There will be a lot of dirty laundry hung out for all to see. Everything that I and your little cutie can think of..."

He laughed and laughed. I felt my throat tightening. His intention frightened me.

"Does your job pay so poorly that you have to resort to this?" I asked distraught and went to the bay window to look out.

"Oh..." he cleared his throat. "I forgot to tell you: unfortunately, the head cameraman really was an American and he does have a nice sizable amount in his account. In contrast to me - I was just the production management's assistant. I was the only German in the hotel and could say whatever I wanted. No one else could understand it anyway. Women like you need to be impressed, I saw that right away. And now it's time to skim off the cream. It would be a pity if we wouldn't seize the opportunity. Do you really think Arnault will be interested in you forever? You're already twenty-six..."

Annoyed, I gritted my teeth. Martin had used me. And I had let myself be used. I became more and more sickened by the fact that I had immediately accepted his offer and had really speculated about doing a story. Back then. In another world. A long time ago. Before I had fallen in love with Daniel.

"So what happens now precisely?" I asked, coldly.

"Well, Rosalie...that's what I want to know."

I took a deep breath.

"Okay Martin. I believe I can tell you exactly how it is: Do whatever you think you have to. You won't get any cooperation from me. And tell Marie that I want to speak with her."

"Oh, now all of a sudden? After you've left her alone for such a long time? What does that say about your character!"

"Just as much as it does yours..." I yelled, fatigued. "Just stop it."

"Then I wish you a nice day. Unfortunately, I have to go visit the poor little dear now. I think she has a right to know that you're clinging to Arnault like a leech. How is she going to finance her studies if you take off with him? The future looks really bleak for the sweetie. Well, so be it. There's stress in the best of families. Can't wait to find out who the father of the baby is! I hope it's not the kidnapper. What well-paid actor wants a little terrorist in the family, eh?"

I heard a click. He had hung up.

"Dammit...!" I screamed, upset, and threw the receiver away heedlessly. Distraught, I looked around. How could I explain this mess to Daniel? The ghosts of the past demanded their tribute and my needs were meaningless to them. And that it had simply just been my job to keep my eyes and ears open didn't matter either. As I turned to leave the room, the telephone rang again. Stunned I stared at the receiver I had thrown down on the sofa. The ring tone penetrated deep into my brain and I suspiciously moved towards the device.

"Yes?" I asked, cautiously.

"Rosalie, it's me...are you alright?" I heard Daniel's voice.

"Yes...yes, of course. Where...where are you?" I asked, relieved.

"I'm at the hotel. I forgot my cell phone yesterday and I know that people will be trying to reach me. I thought it would be a good idea to get it and use the opportunity to get some new things to wear. You know, I'm not used to sleeping dressed..." He laughed cheerfully before he continued. "I wanted to ask you if it's alright if I take a taxi to your place now."

"Yes, please come here..."

My knees were weak and I sat down on the couch. He was so sweet.

"Good. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

"Hurry."

"Is everything really okay?

"Yes! Why do you ask?"

"See you soon Rosalie," I heard his voice.

"See you," mine answered.

Slowly, I put the receiver back on its charging station and got up in a trance to go to the large bathroom. There I turned the water on so hot that my skin immediately turned red. I felt the steaming water run down my body and a certain kind of shame for my past intentions. It seemed more absurd than ever before that I had even thought of capitalizing on Daniel. It was such a shallow undertaking. My thoughts focused on how I should handle the new developments. The situation was precarious because I would have to tell Daniel Arnault that I had moved up to his hotel because of Martin's offer to meet Daniel Arnault. If I were in his shoes, I wouldn't be too excited to hear about this little detail. And I was just as excited to have to tell him. I resolutely turned off the water, wrapped myself in a large towel and looked at the mirror in front of me. My eyes united universes. I thought I had already seen something like it in Daniel's eyes before and I turned away with a sigh. I went out and grabbed my cell phone in a last attempt to reach Marie. But hers was still turned off, as it had been for days – along with her voice mail. A slight panic overcame me knowing that my sister was in the hands of a corrupt extortionist. This man was probably telling her new lies about me which the inexperienced mind of my sister would easily believe. I could only hope that this situation would blow over. Any minute now, I would have to confront Daniel with a lot of unpleasant news: because, in the end, it was me who had caused the uproar in the press due to my appetite for a sensational story – and that was humiliating enough. Already on my way to my dressing room, I heard the doorbell ring. I quickly ran to open it. When I pressed the signal buzzer I heard the building's front door open. All at once, there was a lot of noise. Curious, I took a step forward into the stairwell and listened. It seemed like total chaos had broken out. I could hear Daniel's name be shouted out and realized that there were reporters in the building. I quickly rushed back into the apartment. After all, I was only wearing a towel and there were enough scandals already. Seemingly seconds later Daniel had also made it into the apartment. I quickly closed the door behind him. He put his bag down and looked at me wide-eyed.

"They're relentless. I even left extra early. I thought this was the serene city of Munich..."

My stomach clenched and I brushed the semi-dry hair away from my eyes. I realized that something had been unleashed that, for the time being, couldn't be controlled. I instinctively used the deadbolt lock, as if it would be of any use in the face of this uncontrollable wave.

"Were there a lot of them?" I asked, turning to him.

"Definitely more than before."

"The main thing is you're here."

"You can say that!"

He looked me over and I laughed shyly.

"You look lovely this morning. I already noticed it when I had the brief pleasure of waking up next to you earlier. You were in a deep sleep and I didn't want to disturb you."

"It's nice that you came back so quickly. I'm not used to that at all..." I joked, seemingly cheerfully, and blinked nervously.

"I checked out of the hotel. I thought it's better if we spend more time together. I hope you don't mind."

"Do you think I would kick you out?"

We smiled at each other and he leaned down to me and kissed me gently. I responded to his touch with devotion. Shortly afterwards, he looked at me with a balanced amount of orange in his eyes.

"Come along..." I smiled and pulled him to the kitchen where I opened the fridge to see if there was still enough milk for coffee. Fortunately there was and I prepared two cups. While I operated the espresso machine, he leaned against the door frame and watched me.

"Rosalie, coffee alone is not enough. You have to eat some breakfast. You...you're just a shadow of your former self."

"Yes, later..." I nodded casually, while I frothed the milk. "Daniel..."

"Yes?"

"Would you like yours with milk?"

"Yes, please."

I poured the milk into both cups and handed him his.

"Here you go...for you."

He took the cup and I took him by the hand to lead him to my bedroom. I wanted to get dressed and make a fresh start at trying to tell him the latest news. I dreaded clarifying these unpleasant facts, nevertheless I trusted in my inner strength to convey them adequately. Even if I had no idea how it would sound. Daniel, however, already seemed to notice something. He sat down on the bed and his eyes followed my movements. I opened the wardrobe doors just to stop with my undertaking seconds later. I sat down next to him on the rumpled up sheets. I looked at him. I knew he wouldn't ask anything because it seemed like he clearly knew that I had something to tell him. I took a deep breath and began:

"Daniel, half an hour ago I got a call."

He nodded and continued to wait.

"It was a man that I had met in Srinagar..."

His body language indicated that he was surprised. Without further ado, I began to tell him about how I had already ran into the "crew" on my first day, about the "cameraman" who approached me and promised me the "extra room" they had and how I, as a journalist, happily followed his "tip", since visiting the hotel was on my list anyway – all of the stories which tied the events of the past together and that the present moment had required to be possible. I ended by telling him about Martin's "generous" offer to "make money with him" that he made when he had called and about how he was "taking care of" my sister. Daniel remained silent as he had been the whole time. He seemed to be thinking things over. As for me, I became aware of my inner tension and intertwined my fingertips. After what felt like a century, he laid his unusually warm hand on my forearm.

"Rosalie stop blaming yourself for it all. That's not going to do anyone any good. There will always be people who try to do these kinds of things. It's a part of human nature...."

I looked up at him. He looked serenely at me.

"You can only protect yourself from these things by means of artificial boundaries, but then you can't have a normal life anymore. I've never been interested in that. It's much more important that I can trust you. Everything else will be over soon. Soon I won't be so interesting to the tabloids anymore, even if it doesn't seem like it at the moment."

I nervously repositioned myself on the bed.

"Daniel, my sister is very easy to influence. I know that she will lead herself to believe that this man is right if he just keeps telling her his lies. She will repeat it all and a lot of other nonsense to the press."

"Well...maybe you can understand now why I was so angry when the tabloids came into play. Something like this can take on the most bizarre of forms. The tabloid world creates its own reality and there will always be someone who they find to use as their source to help create a distorted image of you."

His fingertips ran briefly over my arm and then stayed lying on the white sheets lifelessly. I was amazed by the fact that just looking at them enchanted me.

"Daniel, I'm sorry. It was my job. I was blind."

"Who among us isn't blind?" he mused. "But you rejected this man's offer today. Isn't that what counts?"

"That's the way you look at it?" I asked and looked searchingly into his eyes.

"Yes, Rosalie. That's how I see it. And as far as Marie goes: let her make her own experiences. Otherwise she won't progress in her development. And what does she really have to report? She basically likes to talk about your parents the most."

"You've got a good overview and I...I'm already playing the role of big sister again."

"This is a hard role to put aside if you're dealing with someone like Marie..."

I was surprised by his clear assessment of things.

"So you're not mad at me?" I hesitantly asked.

"Why should I be? There's no reason to. Unless you've installed hidden cameras here and are sharing the commission with this..."

He seemed to be searching for the name."

"Martin," I helped him out. My gaze wandered across the room. The idea of moving furniture around to position hidden cameras amused me. "You can rest easy. Just from a technical standpoint, that would be too complicated for me. In this respect, I'm too girly..."

Our eyes met and we had relaxed more.

"Maybe I just needed this circus one more time, because it's helping to reinforce my decision not to shoot any more commercial movies in the coming years. Unless the script is out of this world. This will have two advantages: my private life will become uninteresting to people who want to profit off of it and I finally don't have to be in perfect shape anymore."

He leaned back and propped himself up with his elbows on the sheets. I watched as the fabric of his shirt tightened over his chest.

"Do you plan on getting fat?" I asked with a shy smile.

"Are you afraid of that?" he looked at me, interested.

"Yes." I nodded, laughing. "Very much so."

"It's hard to find honest women."

"I've always found that to be true too."

Our eyes met. I encountered a wild mix of green and orange.

"Is it the truth that you had other reasons besides me for checking into this hotel?" he abruptly asked.

"Get the black book from the coffee table: in it you can find a list of all the places I wanted to visit. You can see for yourself. You can also read my resume in the coming days in the press," I quipped. "Martin would like for the whole world to get to know me better. You won't find anything about me having done any work for tabloids and with my first attempt to befriend this medium I already got way more than I could handle," I laughed, a little unsure of myself. "Despite that, I have to say that you are much more interesting than the architecture of a building or the movies that had once been filmed there. And even today I would continue to insist that this is the case, even if it is for different reasons now."

"You know, Rosalie, last night I was barely able to get any sleep. I realized that in all the years I had never really had clarity on something very crucial: public opinion shouldn't be important to me, otherwise I will never achieve anything in _my_ life. From now on, I will hold myself to it and I find it astonishing that this very topic has come up again today. However, I think that we now have completely different things we need to take care of..."

"And what are they?"

"We have a child now, Rosalie."

It took a few seconds before this statement registered in my brain. My eyes looked in disbelief into his.

"That's the realization you came to last night?"

"Yes," he briefly replied.

"Daniel...this child..." I testily began to speak.

"Yes, this child," he interrupted me. "It's going to need parents. It's going to want them; it's going to demand them. Simply because it's her natural right. And we have the task of respecting this wish and fulfilling it."

I swallowed and noticed that I was shivering. It didn't have anything to do with the temperature in the room. Tense, I bit my lower lip.

"Well, I have to admit that I don't have a concrete idea yet of what should happen next. My feelings are still lagging behind the events somewhat. For me, it was first of all important to know who the father of the child is. So I _had to_ meet with you. This child...it's still so tiny that you can hardly see any features just by looking at its face."

"I know that you haven't had any time yet to figure things out and process everything that's happened," he replied calmly. "You've been through a lot, Rosalie. More than I can imagine. I...I just wanted to let you know that I'm prepared to take responsibility. What happened in Srinagar is our mutual past. And maybe it's not even necessary to think about the past or figure anything out, if what you need is already available in the present moment."

"Yes, that's probably true," I stammered, full of inner turmoil. I almost felt more exhausted than in the months before and became dizzy.

"I would like to see the baby," I heard his voice.

"Yes..."

"Rosa, are you alright?

"Yes," I nodded, fatigued, and laid my head on his thigh. I felt too weak to stay sitting upright anymore. He began to run his fingers through my hair. I closed my eyes and noticed how the towel wasn't wrapped as tightly around me anymore due to me moving. He seemed to have taken notice of it too, because he slowly leaned down to begin to kiss the skin on my hip. Electrified, I grabbed his upper arm while his hand stretched out further to caress the outer side of my thigh. The spheres intentionally followed his every touch.

"It's the way you smell..." he whispered softly and kissed me. Still restrained and gently. It was a wonderful feeling. His hands slowly caressed my body. I felt like an oversized swing had been set in motion and taken me with it. I held on to him tight, so as not to fall off. My hands reached for his clothes and felt the perfect contours beneath them. I wanted to touch him and began to fumble with his shirt and pulled it up so I could place my lips on his skin. A soft moan escaped my lips when I felt its warmth.

"You..." I stammered helplessly.

"...are perfect!" His put his hand on my thigh to push it laterally onto the sheets. This felt even better than everything that had come before. My body shuddered and slipped out of my control. All at once, I didn't care if my scar hurt, what the doctors said or if it was ill-advised.

"Only you...can do it...like this..." I whispered unrhythmically with my senses entering a precarious state. I didn't get an answer. But, I received his love at every thinkable and unthinkable place. His attractive force on me was even greater than I had ever experienced before.

"Daniel..." I could hardly catch my breath. He got up and pulled his shirt off over his head in one smooth movement to then casually throw it on the floor. Afterward he immediately bent down to explore every inch of my skin with his lips. I watched the movements of his muscles as they worked in perfect harmony and I felt where his hands dared to go. The loneliness of the last months began to be erased by a single moment of passion. Then everything happened so quickly that I couldn't keep up with my own body.

"Daniel...my God, that's exactly...what you're not allowed to do..." I exclaimed, excited. But any and all resistance was futile. I felt my arousal coming to a climax and that it was stronger than I had ever experienced before. When it finally happened, I screamed and cried and bit into my own flesh. My body seemed to be occupied for ages trying to process the intensity of the emotions while Daniel held me in a tight embrace until my breathing calmed down again. After that it was quiet. Exhausted, I slumped down on the bed. Barely perceptible, he caressed my skin. I loved this feeling, but even the smallest of touches became too much for my overexcited senses. I abruptly turned away to lay on my side, pulled my legs close to my body and closed my eyes. He seemed to understand and just stayed lying quietly next to me. Without wanting to, I became overly lethargic and wasn't able to make one more single movement. I felt how his lips gently touched my shoulder blade and sighed. I just wanted to rest for a moment. Exhausted, I grabbed his arm and pressed it to my chest. Then I fell asleep, right then and there.

Daniel woke me carefully. His hand was resting on my shoulder and I heard his voice in my ear ask:

"Rosalie...would you like to keep sleeping?"

"Daniel..?! What...what do you want? Did I fall asleep?"

Confused, I turned to him and brushed the hair out of my face. Suddenly the memory of what had just happened came back to me.

"I didn't dream it, did I?" I asked, a little out of it. His eyes conveyed a very unique expression and his irregularly grown teeth were showing. He slowly shook his head. I blinked at him nervously and just as fast as I had been overtaken by a leaden weariness before, all of my life force streamed back into me.

"It's almost noon and I thought..." he began and stopped, almost startled, when I sat up like lightning. I looked at his face and down further at his body. Spontaneously, I pressed his arm against the sheets and positioned my body on his lap. He paused and watched me with a partly excited and partly amused expression. I pushed his upper body down onto the sheets and smiled at him like I had never smiled at any man before: I think I must have looked like a wild animal.

"Until now, certain feelings remained simply unknown to me," I whispered excitedly in his ear. "And I have to admit: I'm still under the influence of them..." I opened his belt and the row of buttons on his jeans. "I would like to express my sincere gratitude..." I slid his jeans down. "...show you how impressed I really am..."

I saw his massive body lying in front of me. Patiently and precisely, I studied every detail. He was beautiful. A work of art. I wanted to do _everything_ with him and decided to start very slowly. My hands placed themselves to the right and left of him and my head sank down over his chest. I let the ends of my hair circle around his navel, barely touching him, and watched contentedly as it gave him goosebumps. I was having fun seeing him like this and I felt my lips begin to throb again. I was too selfish to not want to use them. I kissed him hard and began my amorous play under his Adam's apple. I wandered on to his chest and heard him moan. I knew how much he liked what I was doing, but I had only just begun. With extraordinary intent and with all available means at my disposal, I slowly made my way downwards and my lips not only began to go on a short journey, but on _really_ a long voyage. From a distance, I heard how he whispered something in French I couldn't understand and the pressure of his hand on my skin increased. It was almost painful, but there was nothing right then that could have stopped me. Quite the contrary, I wanted him to grab me even harder. I knew I had achieved what I set out to do when his fingernails embedded themselves in my flesh and his body convulsed under me. It took a long time until he released his grip and his hand fell limp onto the sheets. Similar to how I had done just a short time ago, he now lied motionless and closed his eyes. I smiled slightly and lowered my forehead down to rest on his chest. His heart was beating very fast. I ran my hand over his abs and watched contentedly as the individual muscle groups raised and lowered. He still had goosebumps. With an ambiguous smile, I sat up.

"You're cold? Should I warm you?"

The expression in his eyes as he opened them startled me. Something in them seemed to have been so accelerated that I feared they would never return to their normal state.

"What in God's name did you do?" he rested his hand on my arm and exerted a slight pressure. He looked at the red marks left by his fingernails. "Did I hurt you?"

His eyes looked at me searchingly but I just shook my head, paying no mind to it.

"You can do _anything_ you want to me as long as you do it the way _you_ do it," I whispered in his ear. He smiled, a little embarrassed.

"Let's lie together. Come here."

He pulled my body to his chest. I felt his breath upon my skin and once again it was clear to me that nothing about our union was ordinary.

"Remind me to thank Martin. There's no other woman on earth like you," I heard him say as I squinted into the sunlight coming into the room through the blinds. I suspected that paradise must feel very similar to this.

It was already three in the afternoon when we arrived at the neonatal ward. The first thing I noticed was the intense reaction to his presence. All of the nurses working in the ward seemed to recognize him and none of them seemed to be able to deal with the fact that Daniel Arnault had simply just walked in and entered the room where the incubators were. The hidden glances, the sudden awkward moments in the background, the subtle excitement. I wasn't expecting such a dramatic scene. The cinematic taste of the ladies obviously left something to be desired.

"Tell me, is it always like this?" I asked, staying close behind him.

"What?" the expression of his eyes let me know that he had no idea what I was talking about. Instead, he leaned down towards me and said: "Rosalie, this is a special moment for me..." He smiled, a little bashfully. "I could hardly wait, but I have to admit: now I really am a little nervous."

When I saw him, I wondered to myself why I didn't melt away right then and there. Instead, I put my hand on his forearm and soothingly spoke to him.

"That's the way I felt too. Be assured, I'm still a little bewildered myself. But it's getting better all the time!"

I pointed to where the little girl was lying. No sooner had I seen her than an invisible attractive force began to pull me to her. Daniel also looked spellbound into the incubator and grabbed my fingertips to briefly caress them. I noticed the furtive glances of all of the nurses and it filled me with pride to have Daniel as the man at my side. It was the first time that I allowed myself to feel that way, because now was sure that we would stay together and that he was serious about all of the things he had said. It was a great moment.

"Selassie is an African name" I told him. "It means sent by God."

He gave me a surprised look.

"How did you choose that name?"

"I liked the idea of choosing a name from another continent to put the events of the last months in perspective..." I began to tell him the story of the little African girl that had inspired me. "Do you like it?"

"Just as much as you," was his short, but all the more charming answer. Then he began to walk slowly around the incubator. His observed the little baby very closely. I leaned back against the wall and didn't interfere.

"Please call for a doctor," he asked after a while. Without asking why, I nodded and got a nurse's attention. However, she intervened immediately:

"All of the equipment shows normal readings..."

"Mr. Arnault would like to speak with a physician," I pointed to Daniel.

"Then I suggest you make an appointment. We can only call doctors if there is an emergency."

Daniel slowly raised his eyes and seemed to have understood some of our conversation in German.

"Well, you see, I have some questions about getting a paternity test done and I'm sure that you can take care of such things quickly and easily in your hospital," he explained to the nurse in English and looked at her in an open and friendly manner. Astonished, I watched how the nurse immediately began to blush and, with a side glance at me, took off. I watched her for a long time – then looked at him. He winked at me cautiously. I took a step forward and looked at Selassie. My heartbeat accelerated a little because in the meantime it looked like her hair had too dark of a color to be inherited from me alone. Deep in me, a silent fear arose that Daniel might distance himself from me if it turned out he wasn't the biological father. Each of us stood on opposite sides of the incubator and looked into it in silence. In the background, an alarm sounded that slowly became louder and louder. It was coming from another one of the incubators and a nurse quickly came to regulate the device's temperature. We both looked up at the same time. I stumbled into his pupils and fell into infinity. His eyes seemed to contain a whole universe.

"Life is very fragile here," he stated with a calm voice.

"Yes...but it prevails against the odds. In most cases, at least."

"...and that's what matter's, isn't it?"

"Yes. And limiting the damage," I added, soberly.

New darker parts joined the orange in his eyes. I found the process to be almost eerie.

"But Selassie's vital signs have always been stable up to now," I added reassuringly. All at once, his eyes smiled at me, disarming me. My body jerked and I found myself beaming a smile back at him. The tension slowly left my limbs. He could do magic. With an inconspicuous gesture, he motioned to me to come to him. I did so and felt him take my hand. I felt at ease and secure. As always, when he was near me. We both stared down at the tiny being that was trapped in this survival box.

"I'll be quite honest with you: I have an uncanny feeling looking in here," he finally said. I nodded in understanding.

"Me too," I answered in a soft voice and watched the breathing movements of the small olive colored chest.

A short time later, the noticeable quick footsteps of the doctor on duty could be heard coming towards us. I saw him for the first time. He was in his mid-thirties and extremely enthusiastic. Even he seemed to immediately react to Daniel's presence – and did so with grand gestures.

"Good afternoon! Dr. Schaffhaus is my name. I'm very pleased to meet you."

"It's wonderful that you were able to find the time to come see us so quickly," Daniel replied and shook the doctor's hand enthusiastically. I watched the scenario with interest. I had a professional at my side – that much was clear.

"How can I help you? Shall we go to my office?"

"No, if it's not a problem, we can talk here. Quietly, of course...-that way the Baby will start to get used to my voice."

The doctor responded in a somewhat irritated manner and crossed his arms. I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Daniel briefly looked down at the floor, before continuing.

"As you may know, for months I didn't know that I am a father – perhaps even a biological one. I would like to have a test done to provide clarity."

"Of course, I understand. That won't be a problem. We can send a sample of your saliva to the laboratory. The result is usually ready within one or two days. If you wish, I can accompany you to the corresponding ward."

"That would be great. However, I have a few questions regarding Selassie first."

Dr. Schaffhaus cleared his throat and nodded enthusiastically.

"By all means..."

However, the doctor surely hadn't reckoned with the onslaught of questions that came at him: How well could the child hear at this stage of development? What was too loud for it? Was there a risk of infection? Any existing residual risks? How much longer would it have to rely on machines? What were the nutritional alternatives if there wasn't enough breast milk? What did the special milk consist of that was used at the hospital? At what stage did the organs reach maturity? What did body contact or the lack thereof mean for the child? What complications were to be reckoned with? How could these be prevented? His flood of questions never seemed to end. I watched amused when Dr. Schaffhaus finally became overwhelmed and reacted.

"You know, I'm a doctor..." the man began to explain.

"That's exactly why I'm asking you," Daniel interrupted him with a very firm tone to his voice and looked at the physician questioningly. "I am of course assuming that you, being a physician, have the comprehensive expertise necessary to answer all relevant questions. So please..."

Dr. Schaffhaus raised his eyebrows and stood motionless. He then answered all of the questions as best as he could and in following accompanied Daniel to the laboratory to have the sample for the DNA test taken. When he was finished there, he insisted on spending more time with the baby. We fed her the special milk and changed the tiny diaper. The whole thing turned into a very peaceful and intimate affair. Selassie expressed herself in some very amazing ways which kept us entertained and Daniel didn't seem to be bored for a second. Quite the contrary. When it started to get dark, my stomach made its presence known in such a loud manner that Daniel almost winced at my side.

"Oh, yes, my God Rosalie, I completely forgot: you have to eat! I don't want you to waste away to nothing and I can tell you this: that will soon be the case if you don't start eating more..." He leaned down close to me when he whispered: "There's nothing wrong with you, but I've always known to appreciate your curves."

I looked down at the floor, smiling shyly, then at the baby and back into his eyes. His orange had a warm tone. Embarrassed, I fiddled with the neckline of my dress and suddenly noticed myself that I could barely stand anymore.

I know an excellent French restaurant. I can try to reserve a table for us. Do you have your cell phone? I haven't really had any time to get myself a new one," I laughed and watched as he got out his phone to turn it on. With a look that left my heart racing once again, he handed it to me.

"Should I reserve it in your name?" I charmingly asked.

"If they are fully booked: yes." He smiled slightly before looking back into the incubator again. Selassie showed her appreciation by doing some swimming exercises. I went out to place the call and soon the reservations had been made. In both our names. When it was time to go, I noticed how reluctant he was to leave this little being. Something in him seemed to cling to her. When we left the hospital and got into a taxi he appeared to be withdrawn and introspective.

"My God, she still has to spend weeks there," were his first words. I put my hand on his arm to reassure him.

"You have to look at it positively: Selassie has time to grow strong and prepare for the world awaiting her and we can sleep all through the night.

"I'm sorry, but I..." he looked out the window briefly and then at me bearing his own unique smile, "...I'm not so sure about that."

"You suffer from insomnia?" I asked, teasingly. An amused expression formed on his face as he shook his head. At this moment I found him to be extremely attractive. My gaze wandered on and stopped at the tabloid magazine lying on the seat half folded together next to the driver's seat. In the bottom left corner, I could see the word "Reconciliation!" in large letters.

"May I take a look at that magazine?" I asked, curious.

"Well, of course!" the taxi driver handed it back to me and I flipped it open. Immediately I saw a picture of Daniel entering my building with luggage and at the same time he laid his hand on my arm. Something urgently made me want to look at him and, despite it being dark, I saw his orange moving in a circular course while he slowly shook his head. Remaining silent, he took the magazine out of my hand and let it fall back onto the front seat. I thought I could feel a small army of his spheres visit me. I understood and looked down at the floor with a content smile. He grabbed my hand to give my palm a quick kiss. I closed my eyes and listened to a small rumbling inside me. The taxi stopped. He paid and we went into the restaurant. The waiters didn't react to him – they were stars themselves. However, some of the guests looked up right away and followed our every movement without restraint. I suddenly understood how it must be to always be on a stage. The waiter guided us to a small table and we sat opposite each other. In well-versed flowing movements the waiter brought a large menu upon which the chef's recommendations were written.

"Madame, Monsieur, we also have fresh Fin de Claire today, which I can highly recommend."

"Oh, wonderful!" immediately escaped me. I was enthralled because I loved fresh oysters and had almost forgotten that they existed. Daniel's interest seemed to be aroused as well.

"The way it looks we'll have two dozen as an appetizer. Madame is very hungry," he informed the waiter in his native language.

The two briefly chatted and laughed with each other. It was the first time I had heard him speaking French with someone and I looked on, fascinated. It added another facet to his character. I could only speak a few sentences of French myself and could only understand that he had ordered a bottle of Taittinger champagne and bottled water. When the waiter left the table, his eyes seemed relaxed as he looked at me. French conversation seemed to loosen him up.

"I have met very few people outside of France who love oysters as much as I do. Did I interpret your reaction to the Fin de Claire correctly?"

"You could wake me any time of day and I wouldn't refuse them."

"Nothing sweet, right?" he charmingly recalled.

"You have a good memory," I replied, surprised.

"Only when I meet people that interest me."

"His smile had a certain intention and I reacted shyly. My eyes turned hastily to the large menu and I studied the dishes. I could feel that he never took his eyes off of me. So I quickly made a comment:

"They really have an excellent variety here. Poussin, quail...- I haven't been here in such a long time."

"I'm convinced that we will find out a lot more that we have in common in addition to French cuisine – and even if that's not the case, I'm very curious as to how you see things."

"You can read my mind, can't you?

"Not yet. Even if I sometimes wish I could do so...- especially when something's bothering you."

"Something's bothering me?" I asked, surprised. At the same moment the waiter brought the champagne. While the man was opening the bottle, I looked around the room. Amazed, I saw a whole battery of eyes quickly look away. We were still drawing attention. I had better get used to it.

"Let's make a toast to Selassie and to our having found each other again," he said, raising his glass. "To now."

Our glasses touched and the gentle trickle of champagne in my throat had the effect of a drug on me. I leaned back on the bench. Mixed feelings spiraled up to the surface. They included happiness, relief and optimism – and overwhelming uncertainty. He motioned for me to give him my hand. I did it with a slow gesture.

"Shh," he sternly interrupted my thoughts.

"Rosalie..."

"Yes?"

When he didn't continue to speak, it unnerved me a little. All at once I felt as if I were on a foreign stage complete with an anonymous audience I hadn't invited. His hand held mine tightly. It seemed to have an intention. Then finally I heard his voice.

"Now, listen to me!"

My free hand fiddled with my napkin and I nodded.

"I really don't care who the biological father of the child is. What's more important is..."

My head shot up and I looked at him. All of his orange captured my eyes and seemed to develop barbs keeping me from being able to look away again. I swallowed and my heart beat excitedly. Slowly he continued.

"Although I would like to be the biological father, I can't possibly change a possible negative result. And it won't change our shared experiences or the fact that the child is here now. Nothing can change that. I would like for us to raise it together regardless of the results of the paternity test."

He leaned back and let go of my hand. My nerves vibrated. I couldn't tell if I was speechless or my breath had been taken away.

"You want to raise her together with me?" I replied, stunned.

"More than you can imagine even – if you let me..."

"Daniel, but what do you believe will..."

"I believe in the best solution," he interrupted me sharply. I was so impressed that I began to laugh in a silly manner.

"Do you want to?" he asked as his eyes carefully scanned every area of my face. I shyly ran my fingers back and forth over the back of my hand. My gaze wandered from his eyes down to the snow-white tablecloth and back. Slowly, I began to nod.

"Yes, I...- well of course I don't want to do it alone."

"Do you want to do it with me?" he insisted on an answer.

"Yes, of course I want to do it with you. Only with you." All at once, my answer seemed to carry a double-meaning and I bashfully lifted the champagne glass up to my lips.

"How nice it was that we already got a good start on that today..." he smiled subtly and leaned over the table to grab my arm. He pulled me closer and I felt him put his lips to my ear. "...and be assured: I feel a great desire to make as many babies with you as you want."

Abruptly, he let me go and slowly slid back down against the backrest. I remained in a precarious state.

"I'd like to tell you something," he went on. "Right before we met for the first time I had been together with a Japanese woman." His expression looked reflective. I listened with interest. "She did everything for me. However, for a longer time I had had the feeling that something wasn't right in the relationship. In the last night before she left, I thought about what direction my life would go in after finishing the movie and I came to the conclusion that if I wanted to have children, it was the right time for it. At the same time, I realized that I didn't want that kind of an experience together with this woman. I ended the relationship in the very same night."

He paused briefly and took a sip from his champagne glass before continuing:

"Just one day later, I met you and the opposite was true." The look in his eyes was the most amazing I had ever seen. My eyelids fluttered and I closed them for a few seconds. Again I reached for my glass and while taking a sip I saw the little bubbles rise up before my eyes. I was sure I must be dreaming.

"Maybe it's just an illusion, but when I saw you up there on the observation deck I was sure right away that everything would fall into place from then on. And I still believe that. I thought you might be interested in hearing that..."

A bashful laugh escaped my lips. I put my glass down slowly and looked up.

"Well, to be honest: I actually like dark haired men who, ideally, act in film noir movies. But when I met you, everything I knew got turned upside-down. And that's the way it's stayed."

"Could that be hidden treasure in all of this?" he asked, eyes full of wonder.

"It's not about any treasure," I gave him a gentle smile. "It's about discovery."

"I love your brilliance."

"Please, not only that..."

Our pupils met. And the uncertainty was gone. All of a sudden we had a great deal of fun. Our fingers intertwined playfully.

"You know, I tried several times to go out with other women during these months," he said freely. "And I usually sent them back home in a taxi directly after the meal together. Alone. It was impossible to be together with them. I wanted to know who _you_ were and feel _your_ body. But it was nowhere to be found. No one I came across was like you."

"Daniel, what are you saying..." our eyes locked and then our lips followed suit. The background noise seemed to fade away and I felt the constant pounding of my heart until I heard something directly next to us. We looked up. The waiter had returned with a platter of oysters.

"Fin de Claire for you, Madame and Monsieur."

"Oh, they look amazing," I gave the waiter a friendly laugh as he served us the oysters on an impressive bed of ice.

"Just like you," I heard Daniel's voice say. I was safe, I was happy.

-

He just took me with him. After Selassie had been released, we all traveled together to his house in London in the posh Mayfair district. It was a large, beautiful red brick building with an adjacent garden and the interior was elegantly, yet subtly furnished. I immediately liked the large living room whose attention-getter was a large fireplace. In front of it there was a seemingly endlessly long couch that truly had the capability to make one forget everyday life. Daniel led me through all the rooms of the two story house and bluntly asked which one I would like to have as a study. I was surprised and a little overwhelmed, but he was already busy preparing imaginary drafts of Selassie's room and wanted the furniture to only be made of biological materials.

"Like almost everything here in the house. I know two interior designers who really know their stuff. I'll call them..."

I watched him from the side as he placed imaginary furniture with enthusiastic motions of his arms. Just as before, it hardly seemed to bother him that he wasn't the biological father of the child that was sleeping downstairs in the baby carrier. Unlike him, the result of the paternity test threw me into a state of deep dismay. I found it to be extremely painful that there was nothing left to sugarcoat - or hope for. Shortly after I had found out the result, a lot of suppressed feelings emerged and I noticed how dizzy and weak I felt less than an instant after the words had left the doctor's mouth. Daniel himself only stared down at the consulting room's table for a few moments and then turned to me. No sooner had he looked at me than he took me by the arm, pulled me up and led me out of the room without a word. Neither one of us had said goodbye or looked back again. Daniel's clear and consistent attitude comforted me, because he remained faithful to his opinion that the child needed parents and good education above all else. I was hesitant to react when he wanted to visit Selassie right after receiving the news, but his gaze bored into me as he abruptly stopped walking.

"Rosalie..." he enthusiastically urged. "Love is free. It doesn't cling to what we imagine or would like to have had. To accept things the way they are may be the only freedom we possess. You coined this phrase the first time we sat together and talked. I loved you for it. Selassie doesn't know about anything that's happened – and she is a part of you. Please, always remember that."

Touched by his words, I quickly took him by the hand and led him to the neonatal ward. After Selassie's discharge from the hospital, it wasn't long at all before we left Munich. Although the press had in the meantime lost some interest in us and my sister had ruefully returned to our apartment, my nerves weren't the only ones her continuous crying got on. For her, Daniel was still the enemy who wanted to take her big sister away. No clarifying talks with her could do anything to change it either. Daniel decided to end the situation by advising her to pay more attention to her own life from now on than that of others.

"Find a job, continue your studies, go out with guys you find to be agreeable," was how he summed it up.

Such statements were like poison for Marie who had been left sitting by her "good friend" Martin with an unpaid hotel bill. Even I realized that an end had to be put to the constellation. Daniel rented a suite and we moved back and forth between my and "his" apartment. So my life had once again changed dramatically within in a few weeks because he left no room for doubt that he was sincere in his wish that I come live him – for good. And I was so in love with him – I didn't have a choice.

On the second day after our arrival in London, he introduced me to his housekeeper, Mrs. Brown. She was an unassuming, older woman who came every day and did the housekeeping. I saw right away that she suspected it could be the beginning of a family and she had apparently hoped Daniel would have one for a long time. In any case, she discretely wiped a tear from the corner of her eye when Daniel instructed her to have the furniture moved out of the rooms we had picked to be the study and Selassie's room. Time sped by at a dizzying pace and I was still lagging a little behind because I basically had no idea what kind of work I should pursue in the future. When I cautiously approached the subject, Daniel's reaction was, as usual, calm and assertive.

"Rosalie, preparing your study is just forward-looking planning. I don't want you to work at all right now. I want to spend time with you. We have a little baby. And I want you to have a good chance to recover from everything. Everything else can wait..."

He suggested we make a little trip to the interior designers "of his confidence". They were in the small city of Sète in the Languedoc-Roussillon region in northeastern France.

"After that we could add on a short trip to Italy. It would be a good way to escape the renovation work in the house. What do you think of Lake Maggiore? Portofino? Cinque Terre? Would you like to come with me?" His fingertips rested on the inside of my forearm. In the very same second I got goosebumps. He noticed it and smiled at me. For my part, I was quite sold by his idea because I loved Italy.

"I'll travel with you anywhere – as long as it's a country without internal political conflicts," I remarked dryly. We laughed a little together and booked our flights the next day.

The first three days in France we stayed in a house that was a designer's dream come true, two designers actually, his friends, Pasquale and Claude. They were both in their mid-forties and, in contrast to the objects surrounding them, their appearance was unpretentious, almost inconspicuous even. The two gave me a warm and unspectacular reception and began right away with questioning me about what I thought constituted a perfect study and nursery. At first I reacted somewhat uncertain, but Pasquale, the older of the two, quickly made me feel at ease.

"Come, have a look at the materials that nature surrounds us with. They provide real inspiration." He took me on a tour of their working garden. It was a huge area behind the house distinguished by its large collection of different types of wood, stones and other natural materials. They told me about the origins of the wood and its suitability for further processing which was completely different from industry standards. Each evening we all sat together to discuss the utilization of the different materials in the house – and within these few days we dreamt up a new universe. Satisfied, I realized that from day to day I felt more relaxed and found the process to be quite pleasant. On the fourth day, we left. I was almost wistful, because I had really liked the complex universe of ideas.

Our little vacation expanded into a long trip straight across France and Italy. We resided at the best hotels, dined in small and excellent restaurants and visited exhibitions and theater performances in the major cities. Daniel knew how to distract me very well and I noticed how much good the through and through civilized world did me. It seemed to me as if I was stepping out of a vacuum. On the Borromean Islands, the spell was finally broken for good. I was so fascinated by the environment that without even thinking about it, I asked for a pen and began to scribble something in my little notebook.

"That didn't take as long as I expected," I heard him say. I looked up, surprised, and met his approving gaze.

"Yes..." I laughed, amazed. "...it really didn't."

"Don't let me interrupt you. I don't know anyone who can describe new places as accurately as you. You have excellent observation skills. Keep going..." he turned away and looked at the picturesque landscape that surrounded us. His hands rested on the railing in front of him. My gaze fell upon them and wandered on to his back, his hips and then took in his whole figure. Immediately, my interest in the landscape was extinguished. I quickly tucked my notebook in the pocket of my summer jacket and stood behind him. My desire to touch him completely took over and I snuggled my body close to his. I put my hands on his chest and my lips brushed against the fabric of his jacket.

"It would be a waste of my talent...if I didn't use my observation skills on you right now," I whispered, as my hands wandered to his hips as if remote controlled.

"Rosalie, what are you doing?" he asked, amused.

"I have to be sure that what I've just seen, wasn't just my imagination." I increased pressure and felt how his muscles tightened beneath my hands. He turned around and bent my upper body backwards in a fervent motion to kiss me – in a way that only he could do. Abruptly, he released me and put his sunglasses on.

"Rosalie, damn..." he exclaimed in disbelief. "How do you always manage to do that?" The people around us started staring. He hastily put his sunglasses on and even I straightened out my clothes.

"I had nothing to do with it!" I laughed gleefully. "You alone are to blame..."

"Look, a transfer vessel is coming. I think it's time to leave the island," he said and took my hand to lead me to the dock. I gladly went with him. A quiet ride began. In the silence, however, excitement continued to build up until we had arrived in the safe haven of our hotel room where it immediately got louder.

Whenever we were ready to leave one place after a few days, we couldn't bring ourselves to return to London. Spring was in full bloom and we were just enjoying life too much.

"We have to take advantage of the fact that Selassie is still a baby. She doesn't care where she is as long as we are with her," he always said when it was time to choose the next destination. I happily shared his point of view. The region's food was excellent, the climate mild and the beauty of Italian life was a pleasure to observe. After a few weeks, I had already gained back some of my weight, even though we spent a lot of the time in the pool areas of the large hotels. He loved watching me swim and I loved being able to move about so freely again. Being in the water gave me the feeling of absolute weightlessness. It was like our life: full of personal freedom. The hotel nannies helped contribute and quite often fell in love with Selassie who, for her part, was quite a fuss-free baby. With the help of her Afghan cheekbones, she was growing up to be a real beauty. Her dark eyes were framed by long lashes and to my amazement didn't remind me of her progenitor at all. Daniel proved to be a very cool-headed father who liked to carry her around and feed her. However, he didn't jump up at night to change her diaper. He also advised me not to:

"Let the pros do it. It's their job and we shouldn't take it away from them. We're showing Selassie the world during the day and if we're not with her in these hours, it's good – and we're not tired."

His argument convinced me. And I rather wanted to be with him during the night too than with any other person in the universe. The days flew by and one day in early April I was surprised to find a necklace in my underwear drawer. I turned it around in my hands, stunned. It was a fancy intertwined chain bearing a huge diamond. Since we had first arrived at the hotel the previous evening, I suspected that the last occupants might have forgotten it. When Daniel came back from the hotel's gym, I showed him the expensive piece of jewelry. He leaned his naked shoulder against the wall, crossed his arms and calmly smiled:

"I believe it's been exactly one year today."

I furrowed my brow and had a somewhat ignorant look on my face.

"Sometime in the afternoon," he gave me a tip. "In another country..."

I had to think about it for a bit before it dawned on me what he meant.

"Daniel..." I exclaimed in disbelief. "It's...it's from you?"

With an indulgent smile, he took the necklace out of my hand and stepped behind me. He very carefully pushed my hair aside and put it on me.

"I recently observed you in a conversation with the bartender and I realized that you somehow looked naked. And I don't want anyone but me to see you naked..."

"So now you want to keep me on this chain?" I joked, my heart beating noticeably harder as I put my hand up to touch the gift he had adorned me with.

He laughed in amusement and kissed my neck. Then he came back around to face me and examined the piece as if it were his own work. He seemed satisfied and his orange looked at me with a very dominant tone.

"Well, on a chain is good – but it limits the possibilities."

It was a honeymoon without end. Week after week went by. Daniel was a very particular man, but I loved it because he had a very charming way of getting what he desired. Every now and then, he would get screenplays sent to him, which we studied together. None of them had any real substance. His interest in small film production companies and young filmmakers grew. We started to visit small film festivals where Daniel's unannounced appearance attracted a lot of attention. The local press was in an uproar since he gave spontaneous interviews in which he announced he would found a small production company himself "for the purpose of quality assurance". The result was that his office in London soon asked him to return. There were "mountains of screenplays" for a production company that didn't even exist yet. A meeting would have to take place. We flew back. London greeted us with lovely sunny weather.

"It seems as if the city likes you and I hope you like our life here," he whispered in my ear, right after the pilot had announced the current weather situation in London.

"I'm no stranger here."

"No, not any more..."

The aircraft touched down softly. The pilot had done his job well. We were back and better than ever.

When we entered the house again, I didn't at all feel like the pale Rosalie who had first set foot there. His housekeeper greeted us and was genuinely happy to see us. Soon, we had a look at the newly remodeled rooms upstairs. Selassie's room looked like a colorful child's dream. However, it still needed a lot of accessories, in my opinion. My study, on the other hand, felt uninhabited and had a sober look. I decided not to wait too long to breathe life into this room as well. I had collected a lot of notes and they wanted to be revised and sold. I was determined to have another go at it and to get in touch with my old friend Dave again. All of a sudden, I had a lot to do and I loved it.

Daniel was on the go a lot too and he loved me. It was a happy experience for us to see that we found our way around everyday life easily together. The only difficulty was in finding the right nanny for Selassie. Daniel had very high demands of his employees.

"I pay you. And I pay well. In return, I expect you to do excellent work and not to use your cell phone when you should be devoting your time to the child."

I wouldn't have been quite as strict as him, but I didn't interfere. I wanted him to be satisfied. Our evenings usually were spent at business dinners, which, I have to admit, helped me gain some useful contacts. As a rule, Daniel took me along to most of his appointments and activities.

"I want you to be with me. I find your company too precious to do without," he always so charmingly said. Once when we were at one of these dinners and the topic of discussion was the transformation of a German role in a Scandinavian short film into an English one, Daniel suddenly leaned back and laid his arm on the back of my chair.

"I have someone with a fantastic accent sitting next to me," he said, sure of himself. He smiled very confidently as he looked around at the group. At first, I reacted a bit startled but I was generally interested in trying out something new. And so that's how I really did get my first voice-over job, which I found to be incredibly exciting work. Even if it wasn't always easy for me to identify with the script. In the end, however, everything worked out smoothly and I greatly appreciated the people with whom I had the honor of working with, because they provided for a relaxed and authentic atmosphere in which the medium of film-making was treated as a purely artistic endeavor. Our fundamental position turned out to be successful and a few more follow-up contracts ensued. I felt good that I was earning some money myself, even though I didn't need to since Daniel was a very generous man. For him, money had no meaning.

"It's there for spending. Not anything else. My family always has access to my account. Even if we don't have much else in common. And you belong to the part of my family that I hold most dear," he stated one evening as we were driving home. His compliment flattered me, but I had noticed that he seldom spoke about or to a family member. I took the opportunity to ask him whether his parents didn't want to get to know Selassie. Because, in the meantime and after a lengthy adoption process, she had also officially become his daughter. He stopped the car at a red light and leaned back. His gaze never left the red light when he answered:

"They live in Toussus le Noble, a small village near Paris. My parents are just as stubborn as they are old. My father thinks I'm in the wrong profession. He would have liked for me to be a lawyer. They are quite old-fashioned. If you want to get to know them, we can visit them. But don't expect too much. Personally, I have neither interest in visiting them, nor time to. I had enough opportunities to get a clear picture of how they are..." The light turned green and he hit the gas.

"Well, then we can get around to it later, when you're ready," I proposed, carefully.

"It has less to do with me, Rosalie. My parents are very conservative. My mother will let you know that you're not my wife and that Selassie isn't my biological daughter. They have a strong tendency to not want to accept anything and everything that doesn't fit into their narrow world view. This really taught me something. I'm very grateful to them for showing me how _not_ to deal with certain things."

I bit my lower lip and thought about what he had said. When the car came to a stop in front of the house I opened my door and stayed sitting, unfazed.

"Well, there are a lot of schools one has to visit," I finally summed up. I noticed him leaning towards me.

"I love you - among other things, for your thoughtful answers," he whispered in my ear. "It's cool this evening. Do you want to join me for a drink by the fireplace?"

I smiled at him and got out.

Our conversation reminded me to at least maintain the few family ties I had. I was in regular contact with my sister, but I knew that it couldn't replace a personal meeting. I decided to soon pay my sister a visit and discussed my plans to fly to Germany with Daniel. He seemed quite fond of the idea.

"Oh yes, sounds good. When? I've got a very interesting contact in Frankfurt. He's provided me with a good script and it's possible that I might want to produce his film. We could at least fly together."

Said and done. Just one week later I found myself sitting with him in a plane on the way to Munich. I was happy for him because he was successful in doing what he really wanted to do and always had new options. When he didn't refuse to have a cup of tea with me and my sister, I was also equally proud of him. I stayed for three days with Marie and was very pleasantly surprised by how she had changed. In the meantime, she was having fun going to her university and even had two "steady" female friends. On the second evening of my stay, I had the opportunity to get to know both of them and we had a fun time dining in the French restaurant where Daniel and I had sealed the deal on our relationship. It was a big step because my parents had often eaten there and after their death Marie never set foot in the place again. Now it seemed to no longer be an issue at all. Quite the contrary: she was visibly proud when her friends became more and more curious the later it got and began to ask me all kinds of questions about Daniel. I tried to limit the damage and tried to play down the issue. But the group didn't seem to notice this fact. They were too excited.

"It's really cool that you're together with Daniel," Marie told me at the end of the evening in the restroom. I smiled with satisfaction and threw a cotton pad into the small trash can before I turned to face her.

"And who is this Florian?" I asked her, unpremeditated.

"Florian?" My sister's face turned red.

"Yes," I persisted, interested. "Your friend Konstanze mentioned him frequently." I began to laugh cheerfully and freely gave my sister a hug. "You can tell me. I would be very happy for you if you met a nice guy."

She hesitatingly put her delicate arms around me. Pressing her forehead against my chest, she took a deep breath as she answered:

"We've been together for two months. Konstanze and Frieda say he's a good catch."

I nodded in understanding.

"That's great. I'm convinced that only special guys would be interested in such a lovely person as you. You can gladly invite him tomorrow or bring him along if you visit us in England during your next summer break."

Marie nodded and was happy and I had every reason to be too. It seemed as if her life had taken a positive turn and that's what I had hoped for. It felt a bit strange to sleep in my old bed, but it didn't change the good mood I was in.

Two days later I departed from my old home. I rented a car and began my trip to Frankfurt. I was already near the last exit when I unexpectedly received a call from Daniel.

"I'm not at the hotel. Please come to the following address..." he said and, without thinking about it, I entered the information into my GPS. Then I made my way on the last leg of the journey and was guided along the direct route into the city's red light district. Somewhat taken aback, I looked out the window of the car. The GPS assured me: "You have arrived at your destination street."

I continued to drive down the street and looked at the flashing advertisement signs of the sex cinemas out of which unassuming older men stepped out to then keep on walking as inconspicuously as possible. Young girls stood at the side of the street and at the entrances to the bars. A lot of them were smoking with a worldly-wise look in their eyes while busy young men hurriedly crossed over to the other side of the street. I heard the monotone voice of the GPS tell me: "You have arrived at your destination. It is ahead of you and to the right," and there I saw bright-white painted building.

I stopped the car spontaneously and looked out the window. My destination was clearly a brothel. The many windows of the building were outlined in red and were blinking. The entrance seemed to be on the left hand side. Behind me, someone honked. Startled, I began with the not so easy task of trying to find a parking spot somewhere nearby. For a second, I thought about calling Daniel again, but quickly dismissed the idea. I was sure that I had understood everything correctly.

"And why not?" I thought, a little excited. I was well aware of his penchant for troubling issues. In addition to that, it would be highly interesting to see such an establishment from the inside. I touched up my lipstick, combed my hair and decided to leave everything else in the car. When I got out of the car, I was met by the putrid stench of urine. I quickly turned away and hurried down the street. Mixed in with my joy of getting to see Daniel again was a latent feeling of uncertainty. I wondered if they would even let me in the door! However, when I went in I saw a completely normal stairwell. It had gray concrete walls and numerous neon tube light fixtures decorated the otherwise unadorned hallway. The original lighting scheme was probably all red, but in some places no one had gone to the trouble of replacing the now turned white with age tubes with new ones. Nevertheless, the harsh cold neon light continued to shine in irregular intervals. When I looked down the hallway of the ground floor, I saw a man wearing a brown leather jacket along with a visor cap slowly approaching me. However, he wasn't paying attention to me, but instead the open doors of the hallway out of which every now and then a woman came out and he shouted something to them in broken German. I turned around in the assumption that, like in a hotel, room 412 would be on the fourth floor. So I started to climb the stairs. There were different kinds of smells and then suddenly a loud cacophony of voices followed by absurd silence. When I passed the third floor, it all at once smelled like Thai takeout. I took a few steps into the hallway to see if I saw anyone I could ask to see if I was going in the right direction. A bit shy, I went up to the first door. It was open and I saw a group of Asian women, most of whom were sitting on the floor of the small room eating out of bowls. They were all talking wildly amongst each other and at the same time and their voices combined to reach a remarkably high noise level. The furnishings in their makeshift dining area were plush, crimson and rundown. On the ceiling another one of the white neon lights flickered, as it seemingly had for centuries. I wasn't sure whether it was responsible for the latent humming sound in the room. A young Asian sitting cross-legged on the bed was the first to notice me and said something to the others. A second later, all eyes were on me. A little nervous, I smiled at them.

"Hello – is room 412 upstairs?" I asked, trying to look relaxed. Some of the women started to laugh and pointed up at the ceiling, nodding. Then they turned their gaze away from me just as quickly as they had looked at me before. It was as if they had forgotten all about me in the same second too. So I went further up and entered the last hallway. Here it looked as if someone had made an effort to keep it looking "decent". All of the red neon lights were intact and it seemed as if no sound penetrated through the glass entrance door which had just closed itself automatically behind me. Even the smells of the lower floors seemed not to be able to find their way in. My eyes caught sight of two transsexuals who came out of one of the doors. They had a heavy coating of makeup and presented their long legs in vertigo-inducing platform sandals that glittered colorfully – like, it seemed, almost everything on them did.

"Well, look at this pretty young thing we've got here! A real doll...what a welcome change. Come in..." the platinum blonde of the two flattered me. A welcoming gesture accompanied her words while the brunette next to her just looked down at me with a scowl. I charmingly shook my head.

"I already have an appointment in 412."

"Eleven rooms down, sweetheart. In case you change your mind, I'll be waiting for you here."

"Good to know," I joked and continued on until I had reached the room door I was looking for, upon which the number appeared in decorative handwriting. I bit my lip for a short moment and raised my hand to knock. Still in motion, I hesitated briefly, not knowing exactly what to expect.

"Oh, she's shy. How cute!" I heard the transvestite call out and I briefly glanced back. In the meantime, he was attentively observing his artificial fingernails. I swallowed, shook my head and my knuckles hectically rapped against the hard plastic of the gray door, which seemed pink due to the red light in the hallway. It took a moment before it opened as if by magic. I could hardly see anything and hesitantly stepped into a room which was also completely lit with red light. Similar to the room downstairs, there wasn't anything else here but a huge bed, a small sink and the dominant smell of Indian herbal cigarettes. The atmosphere was dense and oppressive.

"Come in, Rosalie."

Suddenly I saw Daniel who was already ready to shut the door.

"Daniel..." I looked around and discovered that there was another person in the opposite corner sitting in a blood-red armchair.

"Hello..." I nervously gasped.

The person in the back of the room didn't say anything and took a long pull on her cigarette. She was sitting at a small table and next to her shone a lavish red table lamp. I could see that her makeup had dramatic features and I needed a few seconds to realize that she too was not a real woman – even if she looked prettier than most of the women I had ever seen. At the same moment in which I turned around to face Daniel, I sensed how he was coming up behind me. He laid his palms on the sides of my neck. I intuitively leaned my head to the side and felt how my heart began to race as his lips touched the skin where the carotid artery pulsed below. He deeply breathed in my scent. My heart began pounding heavily. All of a sudden it felt as if the walls were caving in on me.

"Daniel, what...what's going on..." However, I couldn't say anything more. He covered my mouth with his hand for a short time and tilted my head to the other side, like a toy. His lips increased their pressure while he moved one hand down to forcefully push my pelvis against. Surprised, I could feel that he was very aroused. I swallowed and my throat pushed against the palm of his hand. I wanted to turn around, but he held me in a tight embrace. I let out a gasp of helplessness. His teeth dug into my flesh and his free hand moved over the contours of my body. He then slid it into the cut of my dress demandingly. He grabbed my breast and almost hurt me in the process. Seemingly completely uncontrollable, arousal began to slowly and autonomously spread in my body. I didn't know how to respond. Somewhere in my head, rationality yelled out that this "wasn't appropriate". Parallel to it, an omnipotent state of intoxication knew that I would soon have multiple orgasms. Involuntarily, yet steadily, the first one was coming on, while his hand moved down again to push up my dress. He searched for the inside of my thighs and I felt him touch me as he never had before. He was too wild, too out of control, too rough. I didn't know what was happening at all, but it was happening nonetheless. I sensed that although Daniel's lips never left my neck, he never stopped staring into the eyes of our on-looker. He leaned forward in this moment and got up provocatively. The light of the lamp next to him fell for a moment upon his face and I could see him looking at me in a scornful manner. His lips were voluptuous and deep red. They had an incredibly conceited look to them which contributed to the iridescent beauty of his face. He was dressed in a dark blue floor-length velvet dress, like that of a diva, and he was coming straight toward me. I saw the burning ash of his cigarette fall to the floor when he stopped very near to me. Daniel's lips departed from my neck.

"Get out," I heard Daniel say with a shockingly aggressive undertone. The man looked at me, then Daniel and back at me again, unmoved. He began to laugh, showing a row of perfectly healthy, white teeth.

"There had never been so much to lose," he said with an accent in a broken German. His voice had an unusual and very soft sound to it. He didn't take his eyes off of me for a second. He blew the smoke of his cigarette directly into my face before he casually threw it onto the carpeted floor and stepped on it. Daniel held me even tighter and scornfully said:

"It's your envy."

The man looked at him with narrowed eyes and left the room obviously angry. The door slammed shut. I was stunned by what had just taken place, but even more so when Daniel, just having barely pulled my panties down, sunk his fingers into me.

"Daniel...what are you doing?" I asked, trembling.

"Undress me..." he whispered while his hand began to intensely rub me. It felt like I was in the middle of a carnival where the merry-go-rounds were spinning so fast it made me dizzy just watching them. While I was still hesitantly unbuttoning his jeans, I was already feeling powerful contractions when I came the first time. He noticed it and let me go. His hands pushed me directly onto the wide bed. He entered me at an angle allowing maximum penetration while he apparently was closely watching my reaction. I cried out and felt his sexual energy carrying me along like a gigantic wave. I screamed again and again as he began to thrust into me hard.

"Yes, come Rosalie, come...- he'll be listening very closely."

I could barely understand his words. My head turned from side to side and I fell into the unknown. My hands desperately tried to find something to hold on to. I dug my fingernails into his thighs and felt him spread mine further apart.

"Touch yourself, Rosalie...I want to see you do it..."

I grabbed my breasts and felt him come powerfully too, as my second orgasm became inevitable. It was barely over when our limbs collapsed down like a house of cards. The sound of our heavy breathing was the only one left resonating in the room. His forehead sank into my hair. When silence set in, it was almost eerie. Sometimes strange sounds penetrated into the room from the hallway. He didn't move for a long time and took a deep breath every now and then. I sensed that something I didn't know about had just happened and I had no idea at all what it could be. The longer I laid there, the more the sore point in the middle of my heart grew and spread out into the rest of my body. My hand carefully searched for him and sought contact with his skin. It was moist and I noticed the fine nerve fibers along his musculature vibrating. I briefly closed my eyes and could smell the slightly musty smell of the sheets. When I opened my eyes again, I studied almost every detail of the blood red room. The longer I looked at the objects, the dirtier they appeared, despite the dim lighting. Strong sobriety overcame me. I turned to Daniel. He reacted, lifting his head off of my hair and opening his eyes. In them, there was something different, something I had never seen before. I tried giving him a smile. He continued to lie there motionlessly and just stared into my eyes. Universes were created. Stars were born and died. After a few light years, he ran his hand through my hair and gave me a slight smile back. He pulled me to his chest and caressed my head. I could hear his heart beating. His hands ran over my skin. They moved with great gentleness.

"I love you Rosalie. I love you. We have to get out of here. Quick. Come on..."

I sat up and was somewhat relieved because the conflicting nature of what had just happened was still affecting me. While I straightened out my dress, Daniel came up behind me and began to straighten out my hair. I paused. It reminded me of the morning after we had made love for the first time.

"You have beautiful hair," he said firmly. He put it into a ponytail and combed through it with his fingertips. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

His words hit me like a sledgehammer. Alarmed, I looked up.

"Daniel, what happened in this room before I got here?"

His movements faltered. My body stiffened and I looked at the yellowish lime deposits in the sink in front of me. His hands sank down to my shoulders and he turned me around to face him. I looked into his eyes and they had a strained expression.

"Here..." He looked around, agonized. "Nothing at all happened here. Rosalie...please: You can't ask me about it ever again."

Great fear overcame me.

"But..." He laid his finger on my lips with a quick movement.

"Don't be afraid. You are one of a kind. And you always will be. Come on now. Let's leave." He took me by the hand. "This is actually no place for a woman. I'm sorry," he apologized as the door opened. I took a deep breath in and a part of me was afraid of meeting this person in the hallway again, while another part of me urgently wanted to. But on our way to the street, there was no one to be seen. I led Daniel to my car. He got in on the driver's side and held the car keys in his hand. For a while, he stared at the steering wheel in front of him. Outside, a crowd of arguing Arabs went past us. Once they passed by, the muffled sounds of passing traffic was all that could be heard. Time stood almost still. It was not an awkward silence. There was something natural about it. From one moment to the next, it began to rain heavily, almost as if God had suddenly become angry. Huge drops fell on the windshield and I suddenly felt tired and in need of protection. He looked at me.

"We're not going to make our return flight anymore today. I...I actually just wanted you to pick me up..."

"Do you know this man?" I asked cautiously.

Daniel turned the key around nervously in his hand and then started the car with a swift movement.

"Yes. We had already met before once. I really don't want to talk about it."

And I accepted it. We drove off, directly to the hotel. There he switched out his simple double room for the largest suite they had for one night.

"I thought it would be better if you stay somewhere nice." He smiled as we walked into the elevator. Irritated by his subtle change, I looked at him. He was treating me as if I were valuable and fragile porcelain. Once we had arrived in the suite, he also continually asked me about what I would like while we waited for our luggage. He proposed to order some food from room service, maybe champagne or maybe German beer would be better? Whether I would like to shower alone or with him? Whether the Suite suited me or if I wanted to make a spa appointment too? Stunned, I confirmed all of his suggestions and watched him as he contacted room service. I was sure that something had changed with his body language too, but I couldn't say exactly what it was. It seemed to me as if he had been broken and I was secretly very worried about it. When he wanted to make love to me in the evening, I was surprised by how deliberate and gentle his method of seduction was. He gave me the feeling of being irreplaceable and whispered things into my ear that were so romantic that I had to laugh out loud in embarrassment. He seemed to enjoy hearing me laugh and kept going on and on. We became lovers. For a long time. When he climaxed, he looked directly into my eyes and afterwards he lied motionless next to me again. I laid my hand gently on his forearm and waited. After some time, he turned to me and pulled me to him. His hands began to caress me tenderly. It seemed to me as if they did it the whole night. All of it puzzled me, but I remained silent. Even though it was hard for me.

Back in London, his condition seemed to slowly normalize. But there were subtle small things which changed from this point on: we hardly left London anymore. Since our trip to Frankfurt, he preferred to have the people whose projects he was interested in come to his office. He acted gentler towards me than ever before and sometimes it seemed to me as if he were afraid of losing me. He no longer spent his free time practicing Korean Hapkido or at the golf course, instead he preferred to be with Selassie. She had already started stumbling around in the world and had babbled her first "mommy" and "daddy". When he was with her, everything came effortlessly to him and he was very imaginative. Sometimes he threw her small balls, which she tried to catch, squealing in delight. He also built large towers out of blocks which she had a lot of fun knocking down. She thought such things were hilarious and he always informed me of her progress. I rarely bothered the two because it seemed to me as if he was using the hours he spent in Selassie's room to think about something. Alone. For himself.

One day, lured by a noisy commotion, I curiously went into the children's room. I saw him, as always, sitting on the floor in the corner of the room. In the middle were numerous upturned pots and Selassie was wildly hammering on them with a wooden spoon euphorically. When I stepped in, he looked up, surprised, and informed me with a little smile:

"I taught her the word 'music'."

"And this is her first opera?" I asked, amused, and leaned against the doorframe.

"Yes..." he replied and laughed out loud cheerfully. "Yes, indeed it is! It does sound a little like Beethoven."

"Well, it's a start. But it will take a while until she masters Schubert," I joked.

"Come sit down next to me," he said, pointing at the carpeted floor next to him. I gladly complied with his wish. Selassie immediately began to bury us under a mountain of stuffed animals.

"Is everything all right?" I asked cautiously because I was greatly disturbed by the serious look he so often had in his eyes when he was spending time in this room. He reacted as if almost shocked and put his arm around me.

"Why do you ask? As long as we're together, it can't be anything but. I love you..."

"Daddy!" Selassie interrupted with an angry scream. She began to cry because Daniel had messed up her work of art when he had moved. He let me go and pulled the child to him and waited for her outburst to subside with remarkable patience. His hand caressed her head while she confronted him as if he were her arch-enemy. I watched on, anxious, until his eyes unexpectedly fixed on me. I looked in them questioningly. But he didn't reveal anything but a smile. I knew I would have to wait until he was ready to talk to me about it. So I continued to observe all these phenomena silently and never put pressure on him, because he gave me his undivided attention more than ever before.

The day of our "second first anniversary" came. It was the day on which we met again in Munich and shortly after Selassie's birthday. This time I hadn't paid any attention to the date either, because to me all the days on the calendar were the same. They were for making appointments and being able to keep them properly. On this day, he turned on the fireplace claiming to be too tired to go out and handed me a giant art photography book as a "small gesture". He knew that I was interested in the topic and had thoughtfully made a fine choice. The book was very comprehensive and when we wanted to page through it I was very surprised, when after the first few pages, I found that a small hole had been punched out in the remaining pages.

"Look...what's that? A production error?" I remarked and looked into the opening where I discovered a small white cord. My fingernails pulled awkwardly on the cord revealing a heavy gold ring tied to its end. In disbelief, his intention dawned on me.

"Daniel, is that...what is it?"

He reacted in amusement.

"They must have put that in there by accident."

"It must way a half a ton," I laughed, excited.

"So that you can't run away." He gave me a small subdued smile and leaned toward me. "Does it fit? May I put it on you? I would like to start practicing..."

I was speechless and my hand was shaking. It was the most beautiful gift I had ever received from him – and by that I didn't mean the ring.

"It looks very pretty. However, not as pretty as you," he said as he slipped it on my finger.

"Daniel...this...this is too much."

"No," he interrupted me with a serious look. "It's nothing in comparison to you being here with me." He brushed back some strands of my hair. Something he was very fond of doing everyday. My heart pounded as I leaned towards him.

"You always have to go and steal the nicest compliments away from me..." I whispered into his ear. His hand cupped my neck and pulled me to him. Then he kissed me as if it was the very first time. Giggling, we landed on the gigantic couch and his creativity allowed for long trips into the realm of fantasy on this evening as well. I was happy. I found our life, our love, and our home to be completely satisfying. I had no reason to assume that he felt any differently.

Until one rainy day, late in winter, a short time later. I was in the kitchen clearing out the dishwasher because Mrs. Brown had acute bronchitis. As far as I knew, a guest was coming for dinner and I wanted to set the table since the catering service had already delivered the food. All of a sudden, I heard noises in the house and was a little surprised that Daniel had apparently come home much earlier than he said he would. I reached for the last plate and turned around when the voices had reached the kitchen door. I was immediately startled when I saw the man who was standing next to Daniel in the doorway. His face looked familiar. My heart rate accelerated and my eyes were irritated by the sight.

"Rosalie, this is Brian," I heard Daniel say in a serious voice. I took a few seconds before I came up with a well-mannered "hello". I didn't receive an answer – only a mocking smile. My heart began to race as if the devil himself was standing opposite of me. Even though my counterpart looked like the exact opposite: Brian had the appearance of a pretty little angel. No taller than five and a half feet, every detail of his body was delicate, supple and elegant. Every fiber of him seemed to be subtly erotic. His black chin-length hair contrasted well with his green eyes. His lips were as voluptuous as I remembered and their contemptuous look only served to perfect his beauty. He casually stood in the doorway as if he were an old acquaintance. His smile was particularly unnerving. It conveyed the sovereignty of contempt, absoluteness and triumph. I knew that something important had taken place. In slow motion I put the plate down and my gaze wandered to Daniel. It was impossible to interpret his expression. Neither of us spoke a word. Insecure, my hands searched for support on the counter behind me and bumped against the dishes behind me making a clanking noise.

"Oh..." I gasped, immediately absurdly ashamed of my little mishap. Brian's smile became downright charming when he noticed my embarrassment. I felt like a school kid who had just been run over by a big bus.

"You've already met," Daniel remarked.

"In...in Frankfurt, right?" I said with a troubled smile, but Brian didn't find it necessary to reply. He took the greatest of pleasure in my insecurity. Again, the oppressive silence of all those present ensued. My mouth felt dry. I swallowed hard.

"Yes, Frankfurt," Daniel finally confirmed. I gave him a helpless look.

"And what happens now?" I asked him directly since it was obvious a normal dinner wasn't going to take place.

"I'm going away for a while, Rosalie," Daniel replied. Sharp needles came at me from the other side of the room and pierced through me. It was immediately clear to me that he wasn't just talking about the rest of this evening.

"Going away? Where to?" I asked and tried to smile. Daniel's gaze remained strangely resigned and impersonal.

"Unexpectedly, something came up I have to take care of," he soberly informed me.

"Ah..." I nodded, not understanding anything at all.

"Rosalie..." he paused for a moment. "I'm going to leave right away and I don't know when I'm coming back again. Nothing will change. Please, just stay here with Selassie and don't search for me."

"Leave?! Now...? Right now? How do you mean that?"

"He means it just like he said it." With his disturbing voice, Brian spoke to me for the first time. The expression of his eyes assigned me the role of an unimportant particle in his glimmering universe.

"Shut up!" I heard Daniel's say with a surprisingly sharp tone, just like in Frankfurt. His eyes bored into Brian's body which raised a hand in a gesture of appeasement, but never lost any of its arrogance in so doing.

"Why so rude suddenly? He said with a provocative smile. Within the span of a second, Daniel's gaze fell to the floor, then to Brian, to the ceiling and finally stayed fixed on me. He seemed to be very out of sorts on the inside and hastily went to the kitchen table, laying his keys and the cell phone he used for personal calls down on it. My eyes followed his actions in disbelief.

"What are you doing?" I asked, confused.

"I don't want you to call me. I'll contact you. I'll try to hurry." He smiled at me briefly then turned and immediately left the room. His shoulder brushed against Brian, who in one smooth movement stood up straight and gave me one last degrading look.

"Well then...until next time maybe. Enjoy your meal."

When he walked out of the room too, I finally let go of the damn counter and rushed after them.

"Daniel, what's going on here? What's this all about? Where are you going? I cried and my voice had a hysterical undertone. We got closer and closer to the front door and it didn't seemed like anything could stop him or get him to even say one more word to me. I grabbed his arm.

"Daniel, please talk to me!"

He paused for a moment and a dark gray shot into my eyes. I was shocked because in the background of his pupils deep anguish stabbed out at me. I could almost feel it instantly reaching into my body. It was unbearably sharp and bored like an army of small drills into my solar plexus. I looked at him, afflicted. My hand went numb and fell limply down from his arm.

"I'm sorry, that I'm hurting you. But I have to go now." Daniel looked away and walked past me.

"It's hard to let go of beloved things..." Brian's voice mockingly said.

"Stop it, you monster!" I hissed angrily and full of disgust.

"Right back at you." he cheerfully replied.

We had arrived at the front door. Brian opened the driver's side door of the small rental car which was parked directly in front of the entrance. Without hesitating, Daniel went to the other side of the car. I was so upset that tears welled up in my eyes. He couldn't just leave like this – not with this man, not without any warning, without any explanation and without me! Before Daniel disappeared into the car, he looked at me for a brief second.

"Wait for me," he said. I clung to this last sentence and nodded hesitantly. Numb, I stayed standing in front of the house and watched as the small car sped away. With every meter it distanced itself, my relationship with Daniel seemed to dissolve into nothingness. I forgot to breathe. Thoughts were going through my head like on an assembly line: Who the hell was this man? Where were they driving off to? Hurry and do what? Why did he leave his cell phone here? What did it all mean? Maybe it had to do with his career!

"A project," flashed through my head. But my hope immediately fell to dust. He looked too afflicted and involved. My rationale continued to insist on a claim to my flow of thought: maybe he would only be away for a short time and I was making it out to be far worse than it actually was! Maybe he would really be back in a few hours and everything would be cleared up! As far as I was concerned, he didn't have to clarify anything but just do one thing: be with me! It wasn't right for us to be apart. At least not in such a strange way. He should be right here close by me, just like every night we had been together since our reunion. I couldn't allow myself to give way to the foolish feelings of panic traveling up and down my body. He would come back – soon! But deep down an ominous feeling begged to differ, threatening that he would be gone longer than I could accept. Maybe even a lot longer. I pushed this idea compulsively aside and my mind continually produced new imaginative reasons why it was sure he would come back soon: his job, all the people who had started working with him in the meantime! He appreciated every one of them! He couldn't be away from his company for very long. After all, he was the driving force behind all of these small film projects. These things were too important to him to neglect. Likewise his affection for Selassie. He would never let her down! And his love for me was just as strong and alive. He had shown me this every single day, in all the things he did – and how he spoke to me. That was all true and genuine – there was no way I had just imagined it.

"Miss Lepore?" I was startled when I heard the voice of the Spanish nanny behind me. I saw the silhouette of Alma in the front doorway. Bewildered, I looked around me. I was still in the driveway and I suddenly became aware that night had already set in – and that it was bitterly cold.

"Excuse me, but it's already quite late. Selassie would like to say good night." Her voice sounded a little uneasy. I brushed my hair back and collected myself.

"Yes. Yes, of course. I'm coming."

I went straight to Selassie's room. My daughter greeted me with excited screeching.

"Mommy! Mommy! Daddy?" I sat down on her bed and began to tell her a convoluted bedtime story. After Selassie had fallen asleep, there was still such an immanent feeling of emptiness remaining in me that I began to silently cry. Something in me knew that I had lost him.

The first fourteen days were the easiest and the worst at the same time. It was a relief to hope anew every day that Daniel would ring the doorbell any minute and put an end to all of the uncertainty. But my despair grew with each day that passed by without any word from him. As soon as night fell and Selassie slept, I felt as if my heart had been torn out and much too alone in a much too big house, which I suddenly felt like a stranger in. I dreaded slipping into our bed without knowing where he was, what he was doing and who he was together with. It often felt like I couldn't breathe with all of the questions weighing down on me and I hadn't received a single sign of life from him. I never left my cell phone out of sight for a single second, but the only ones who called were his production office, his manager and his lawyer. Everyone was upset about a fax that had been sent from an Internet cafe in Manchester two days after Daniel's mysterious disappearance. In the document, he put all of his employees on leave for an indefinite time and gave unlimited control of his bank accounts. I was just as perplexed by the document as his lawyer, Robert. He was also of German descent which had made it easier to get to know him better. While dining together at a fancy London restaurant, he seemed to be extremely skeptical about the situation.

"Rosalie, I've known Daniel for almost six years now and I've never known him to behave so oddly."

"Yes..." I replied bluntly. "I don't know what to think, either." I poked at my food halfheartedly and looked into Robert's scrutinizing eyes. He was thirty-seven years old and hidden away beneath his conservative appearance there was a person with a finely tuned sense of humor and excellent people skills. He had left his hometown of Stuttgart right after graduation to start a career in London. He had undoubtedly succeeded in that, since he worked for a firm whose clients belonged to the crème de la crème of the British media landscape. Robert asked me in detail about the course of events. At first, he suspected Daniel had been abducted again, but I was able to reassure him this wasn't the case.

"No...- no, I don't think that's possible. Daniel knows this man. I met him too by accident a few months ago."

Robert pressed me to divulge further details, which pushed me a bit into a corner, because I wanted to reveal neither the unusual location nor the precarious details of what happened during this meeting.

"It was in Frankfurt. I was supposed to pick him up and when I met him, this man was with him. They bid farewell to each other quite quickly. Daniel behaved just as enigmatically then. It seemed to me as if they had some kind of history together, but I have no idea what kind it could be. The only thing I noticed was a kind of aggressive tension that existed between them."

Robert leaned back and ordered another glass of white wine.

"You have never talked about this Brian?"

"No, Daniel never wanted to talk about him. There's nothing else I can tell you about any of it. Nothing at all." I let the fork slide down onto my still full plate and dabbed my lips carefully with a napkin, before I continued to speak.

"You can imagine that I have been racking my brains about what kind of relationship they have and I always come to the same conclusion: that I don't know. There's nothing I can do, except wait. Unless you can think of something."

Robert raised his class and delightfully smelled the crystal-clear liquid.

"The wine is good, isn't it?" He drummed with his fingers on the table and continued after a short pause:

"Of course, everyone has the right to leave the city without any further explanation. However, I would be for hiring a private detective to investigate."

I raised my eyebrows and stared resignedly at Robert's light blue tie, which seemed to have a somewhat exaggerated pattern, in my opinion.

"Daniel would not be pleased."

"But I would be. After all, I'm his lawyer and it's my job to protect my clients."

"From themselves?" I looked a little mockingly at Robert whose eyes rejected my comment as unqualified. I didn't care. I knew that I could assess what had happened better. Where I got my certainty from, however, was a mystery to me. Just like everything else around me. I reached for my glass and touched it to my counterpart's. But he appeared to be a bit obstinate. It seemed to me that he didn't like my attitude. Our glasses clinked loudly together.

"Daniel doesn't want any investigations and he must have his reasons," I told him, firmly.

"He gave you control over all of his accounts. Everything that has happened benefits you alone, Rosalie. And it could come back to haunt you."

I almost choked and put my glass back down. My eyes closed for a few seconds. If I had understood Robert's statement correctly, it was possible that it looked like I had something to do with Daniel's disappearance from the perspective of a third party. After all, I was now rich. I drew in air through my front two teeth. The pain inside me had took on a new dimension.

"Someone has to pay the employees and pay for housekeeping. Daniel doesn't seem to be in a position to take care of such mundane things himself at the moment. And he expressed himself very clearly in his letter, I think. No one received a notice of termination," I replied somewhat distinguished. Robert pondered my words, tilting his head from side to side.

"But you can still do it as soon as the situation has calmed down..."

The corners of my mouth formed a disdainful frown and I mulled over the situation. As the only witness of what had happened, I didn't like the idea of becoming the target of any accusations. Maybe Robert's idea to hire a detective was quite foresighted.

"Rosalie, please don't take it personally. But you have to keep a cool head and at the moment you look more like a shadow of your former self."

I swallowed hard, because I really was feeling miserable.

"I'm not sleeping very well," I gave a brief reply and tossed my hair back with pride.

"You have every reason not to," he replied, sure of himself.

"Okay. Robert, do what you must. Hire the best one you can find. But I'm not going to pay for it! You know..." I laughed somewhat cynically. "...I'm so devoted that I accept the rules of my partner."

"Only that you don't have a partner anymore now," he soberly stated. "I don't want to hurt you. I want to protect you. Should I take over the management of Daniel's accounts?"

I laughed, irritated. Robert's hand grabbed mine. I pulled it away, hurt by what he had said.

"No, thank you. There's nothing to manage. Everything will stay as it is," I said firmly and took the last sip from my glass. Robert sighed.

"If you need something, call me. And you have to get out more. May I invite you to come to the club on Thursday? Some distraction will do you good."

I agreed with an absent nod.

"Yes, of course. Thank you."

It wasn't the last time that I had to put up with strange questions. In the coming weeks, without any inner drive and sheerly out of self-preservation, I visited a few events where I also met some old acquaintances.

"Where do you live now, anyway?" was the probably well-meant question of a script writer which struck a bitter chord in me. It was accompanied by a smile, whose motivation I didn't like because it reminded me of my marathon through all possible places in the house trying to find sleep. There was only one place that passed the test:

"Selassie's room," I heard myself say.

"Oh – so still in Daniel's house? I thought your relationship had ended..." my counterpart replied and raised his eyebrows in surprise. Without saying another word, I turned around and just left him standing there. I wasn't in the mood for satisfying anyone's curiosity. Over time, I became aware of the stain to my reputation that came about after unknown sources suddenly revealed that I had become the manager of Daniel's assets that "didn't belong to me at all". The pressure of being in this position, friends' reactions and being alone literally made me sick. In the following weeks, I suffered from a number of nervous disorders. I got a kidney infection after swimming laps in the pool, a sore throat after a walk in Hyde Park. Just like that, out of nowhere. Robert was the only one who was truly interested in my well-being and did everything he could to distract me from my gloomy thoughts. I was grateful to him and almost had to comfort him when he called one evening to tell me:

"I have the detective agency's report lying in front of me," I heard him paging through it. "You're not going to believe it: they haven't found a single trace of him!"

Conflicting emotions arose in me.

"They didn't find anything?" I asked, somewhat in disbelief.

"Nothing!"

"Well...then Daniel must be better than the best," I said cheerfully, yet bitter, because when Daniel did something he usually did it perfectly and without much effort. It was one of his characteristics that I really liked – had liked. Even though Daniel's disappearance had taken place six weeks ago, he still accompanied my thoughts and deeds like an invisible shadow. During my daily tasks, he stuck to me in an absurd parallel universe like a ghost. In the few hours in which I was able to sleep, he appeared to me in my restless dreams. The worst thing was waking up, which always came with the same agonizing realization that he was not with me. And I was missing the handbook that told me how to deal with it all. So I wandered through the now artificial framework of my daily life and tried to bury myself in work. During this experiment, I made the alarming finding that I had been looking over my writings for hours, unmotivated and able to concentrate on a topic only with great difficulty. Research represented the ordeal of having to gather up enough willpower and every corner was cut. Only an hour after I emailed my old friend Dave an article, he called me back to reject it:

"I'm sorry Rosalie, but the material is no good!"

I nodded silently into the receiver.

"Yes...I know. I'm sorry. I'm a little off my game at the moment."

"Listen. I know exactly what's going on with you and maybe it's better you take a break from writing."

I had no choice but to follow his advice. The hole I was falling in didn't just get bigger it also increased significantly in depth. Selassie remained my only source of emotional support. However, she often blurted out "Papa" causing me to freeze each time anew. I explained to her that Daddy had went on a trip and only the man in the moon knew when he was coming back. And so it came to be that after two unsuccessful attempts at falling asleep I turned on the light on Selassie's miniature desk and I looked at the children's books that were lying scattered around there. I found their contents were often uncreative and seemed construed and all at once I had an idea of how it could be done better. From then on, every night I kneeled down at Selassie's little table and began to create a story about a bear that ran into a snake. It was all theoretically impossible, but I was enthralled by the boundless realm of childhood imagination. The more the story developed, the less I seemed bound to earthly constraints. Writing without any preset limits pacified my soul, just as my fantasy did, which I used to turn the differences of the two protagonists from one another into similarities. Selassie slept peacefully in her bed the whole time. And for me, the best time of day had become the evening, because I stayed there until I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore. During the day, I bought books about drawing and painting techniques and drafted the first small sketches. For the first time, I had found a kind of substitute source of satisfaction and a remedy for my permanent feeling of loneliness. And I was very happy about it.

Soon after, Christmas was arriving fast and for the last time I gave in to the illusion that Daniel would ring the doorbell with a stack of gifts in his arms to see the joy in Selassie's eyes. I invited my sister and her boyfriend so I wouldn't be alone or have to go to a party, where I wouldn't feel at home. I didn't have the courage to travel somewhere myself or celebrate alone with Selassie. My hope was too great, too sentimental, too irrational.

When I saw Marie again, I was surprised to see that she had developed into an extraordinarily beautiful and bright young woman. She had a certain kind of encapsulating charm and I almost felt envious of her, because her freedom, her youth, her love for this young man: it all seemed perfect. She had reacted to the news that Daniel was "missing" with dismay, but emotionally detached and occupied with her own happiness. And of course, Daniel didn't show up at the door to come back to me and Selassie or even just make an appearance. Nevertheless, I thought I could feel energy pulling on me that emanated from Daniel – from wherever he was. It also probably just had to do with my wishful thinking that I would be reunited with him. Despite my dominant rationality, I still kept a well-protected room in my head where these impressions were allowed to be "true". On the day before New Year's Eve, Marie and her boyfriend departed. I had visited all of the relevant sights with them and it had been a wonderful distraction to stroll through Soho or to see how big her eyes got when she saw the works of art at Tate Gallery. On the last evening, Marie asked me if I really would reconsider coming with them to celebrate New Year's together. I shook my head and gave Marie a sentimental farewell kiss.

"Thank you, sweetie, but I've already accepted an invitation."

And so it came to be that I attended Robert's New Year's Eve party and swore to myself there that this state of loneliness would no longer dominate my life. I had already spent too many days in Mr. Arnault's waiting room and if I had any resolution to make it was this: not too spend another day there. Life took place in the here and now – everything else was a waste of time. I had never had much patience with people who, against all odds, indulged themselves by going after the unattainable with reckless abandon. I was determined not to become one of them and purposefully got drunk.

"It doesn't suit you, Rosalie," said the person who was standing next to me at midnight. I looked beside me. It was Robert who gently took the glass out of my hand instead of touching glasses with me. I reacted unusually strong and wrapped my arms around him to kiss him.

"Happy New Year," I said as I looked into his eyes.

"An even happier one to you, Rosalie."

"Yes, for sure!"

It was a vow and I decided to keep it unconditionally. In hopes of finding myself in a better future – and getting a little more sleep.

We came together. It wasn't passion that did it, but rather the understanding of certain values. I knew that Robert was a helpless snob and his narcissism was immensely flattered by being able to conquer the woman who had once been Daniel Arnault's long-term lover. Conversely, I used him to help me build an unreal, but to all outward appearances, dazzling "perfect world". Robert possessed typical German characteristics such as reliability, loyalty and aspiration – and he never left his significant other waiting. He courted me, took me to the finest restaurants in the city and gave me the feeling of being able to count on him one hundred percent. He also displayed exemplary behavior around Selassie, despite him not being interested in children at all. He was passionate solely about his occupation, his exaggerated taste for luxury and my looks. I noticed it by the way he looked at me whenever I was getting dressed or he was undressing me. However, I couldn't say that I coveted his body. It was rather the vow to change my life which motivated me to be physically intimate with him. Luckily, his sexual stamina wasn't of a very high level, so I was quite content with the situation. We complemented one another and never fought. He also greatly appreciated the unspectacular way I went about doing my work.

"Most women stress themselves out so needlessly. I can't stand that," was the credo which he repeated like a mantra as soon as he left his office and I understood what he meant. I knew the type - the dedicated, ambitious woman whose goals were more important than her own well-being. In this respect, I had adopted a rather Buddhist attitude in the meantime and was of the opinion that the things one created out of conviction would bear their own reward - without the creator having to lose himself in the process. The unexpected success of my first children's book proved I was right. Robert was happy for me when he found out there would be a promotional tour for the book. He liked the area I had become successful in. He said it was "naturally a good fit", because even though he truly despised successful women, at the same time, he also secretly wanted one at his side. With my kind of success, I had resolved his inner conflict in an ideal way. However, I wasn't really interested in his attitude about things very much. And this was something we had in common.

When I experienced the well-visited bookstores with the many excited children, it gave me a real euphoric boost. It was amusing to hear that a child could hardly wait to show the book to a friend because, with the addition of my signature and little drawing I always added next to it, it had become "really important!" These were all developments which helped me during the day to forget the pain of never having heard from Daniel again. It was just in the nights that I awoke covered in sweat and grabbed next to me only to quickly remove my hand from the body I felt there. It startled me too much that it was a different one than in the dream I had just had.

When I slept in my small apartment that I had rented in the meantime, my hand reached into empty space. I was never able to extinguish the feeling of shock that overcame me then. However, continually renewing my vow to forget Daniel Arnault at all cost helped me to cope. In such moments my aversion to the man who from one day to the next had left me won over and I was happy for each day in which I found a new reason to forget him more. Since his disappearance there had only been one solitary press report about him. Reporters had seen him leaving a small motel on a highway near Birmingham. The image was blurry but it was possible to see that Daniel was tired and unkempt. When Robert showed me the newspaper, I just glanced over it briefly.

"It doesn't interest me," I said defiantly, throwing the newspaper immediately in the trash.

"You're still hurt?" Robert's searching eyes looked me over.

"Yes, because no one should treat anyone like that."

Robert tilted his head from one side to the other and said nothing. He had a kind of discretion that I very much appreciated. His only vice seemed to be toying around with risky investment transactions that paid out "high returns" to all participants. I was very surprised when I saw him lose control for the first time as he was drunk and started talking about the topic. I could barely listen to him anymore when I saw the fiery look in his eyes. To my amazement, I realized that every human being has a side of them that remains hidden, no matter how well one thinks they know the person. But inside, Robert was always too unimportant to me for me to be concerned about his passions. I needed him solely for the maintenance and structuring of my daily life. And the next day his remarks seemed to be extremely embarrassing to him anyway.

"Is there a sex tape of Daniel and you?" I heard Robert's voice suddenly ask after having barely pressed the answer button on my phone.

"A what?!" I thought I had misheard. I was sitting in the middle of a meeting in the conference room of the large publishing house and we were discussing the designs for a children's tableware set bearing the characters of my book.

"Please excuse me for a brief moment," I asked the surprised looking participants and stormed out.

"What in the world are you talking about?" I asked, upset. "I'm in the middle of negotiations!"

"Listen to me, Rosalie! I just received a call from a certain Brian. He claims to be in possession of a video in which you and Daniel are physically intimate."

It was as if I had been struck by lightning and my gaze wandered down the row of clinically white doors that lined the hallway.

"Brian? The Brian?" I asked with a flat-tone to my voice.

"The way it sounded, it was the Brian..." Robert's voice sounded annoyed.

"Go on..." I slowly said.

"What do you mean go on? I asked you if such a recording exists!"

"Not that I know of..."

"Rosalie, this man is demanding a million pounds."

I leaned against the wall and looked up at the halogen spotlights that shone down on me from the ceiling of the hallway.

"A million pounds?" I repeated, passively.

"Yes!" he reacted impatiently. "And it didn't sound as if it was a joke."

"Robert, I..." I stammered nervously.

"Was there ever anytime where you think you could have been filmed?" he continued to press for an answer. I suddenly remembered the meeting in Frankfurt. My stomach immediately revolted.

"Oh my God!" I gasped in horror.

"Rosalie, pull yourself together and stop stammering! Is it possible he's telling the truth?"

I noticed how bad the quality of air was that the air conditioning provided the hallway with. I shook my head and stood up.

"Robert, I have to finish this meeting here. Then we can talk. When will you be home?"

"I have my last appointment at six."

"Good." I pushed myself back off the plasterboard wall.

"I'll arrange for Alma to put Selassie to bed and then I'll come to you. We can discuss everything else then."

"So, there is a video..."

"Damn it, I don't know!" I replied nervously. "We'll talk tonight."

"Rosalie, this is a disaster!"

"Yes. I know. Please hurry."

"I'll try."

I nodded as if he could see me and hung up without another word. For a few seconds I stayed standing in the artificial matrix of the hallway. My teeth ground against each other. 'Frankfurt! Damn it! The past!' In these seconds, I wasn't sure whether I hated myself or Daniel more for having ended up in such a situation. Distraught, I looked to the left and right in the hallway as if I was being watched by someone lurking behind one of the doors. I spoke to myself with a brave voice inside my head so that I would be able to concentrate again and suppress my nagging memories. I had to go back into the conference room. It had to do with my future. Still slightly shaking, I brought Rosalie the children's book author back into position and turned towards the door. After taking several deep breaths, I opened the door. Eight pairs of eyes stared at me in anticipation as I entered the room again and politely apologized. The negotiations went on according to plan and were successful despite my inner tension. After two and half hours, we agreed on a design and the styles of the new "Polo and Trixie the Snake" children's tableware set. I took my leave quickly afterwards and rushed out. Still on my way to the car, I called Alma and told her to come to my apartment because I was picking Selassie up from the nursery school now. I took her to my apartment in Convent Garden, but the devil was in the details. Selassie, who was otherwise a very agreeable child, absolutely refused to let me leave. She clung dramatically to my leg when I wanted to say goodbye to her. She cried and I simply lost my nerve. I angrily yelled at my daughter – something that I normally never did. Alma looked at me in amazement and professionally took over the situation by carrying Selassie away and promising her they would do something fun. I wearily rubbed my forehead and immediately started heading for Robert's house. Upset, I parked the car on the guest parking lot and stopped for a moment. I saw his Austin Martin sitting next to my compact car and that there was light on in the house. Robert was for sure home already. I looked at my watch. He was at least an hour early. Tense, I held my keys in my hands and rolled them back and forth. This moment reminded me of sitting in the rental car with Daniel shortly after having left the establishment in Frankfurt and I feared the continuation of this oppressive scene. What if Brian had really installed a camera? The more I thought about this ominous evening, the clearer it was to me that I had walked right into a trap. But what about Daniel? Did his restlessness after the event mean that he knew something and was hiding it from me? Why did he sleep with me at this place? Why was he so aroused? Was he just as much of a victim as me back then in that dismal room and did his sudden disappearance possibly have something to do with it? I sighed deeply and forced myself to get out of the car. I still didn't know the answer. On the way to Robert's front door, I suddenly got very dizzy. All at once, it seemed to me as if I were walking towards the wrong destination. But Robert was the only one who could help me. After all, he was star lawyer and if anybody had an idea of what to do, it was him. With a queasy feeling, I opened the front door and called Robert's name. No one answered me. I began my search in the living room, finding only an abandoned drink there. I continued on to the upstairs kitchen and finally found my partner in the bathroom. He was cutting his sideburns very thin – something he had thought up as a new fashion statement.

"There you are finally." Robert lowered his special pair of scissors and looked at me reproachfully. "I've been waiting for an hour."

"I thought you were still busy."

"You should have known that I would shorten all of my appointments today."

"Selassie caused problems," I replied wearily.

"Not just Selassie!" he sternly replied and then turned towards me to look me over from head to foot. "You look exhausted."

"I am. The negotiations were somewhat more grueling after your call," I replied, slightly irritated. I knew Robert well enough in the meantime to know that my uncombed hair and wrinkled dress insulted him.

"I understand."

"Tell me what happened," I asked resignedly.

"Of course, come..." he laid his hand on my elbow. I didn't like the feel of it, but let it happen. We walked into his living room. Once there, he poured me a double scotch without asking. After short hesitation, I accepted it.

"Well...?" I asked.
He turned to me and took on an arrogant stance.

"That's what I want to know!" he finally replied with a dramatic undertone. I shook my head and rejected my first impulse to yell at him as being senseless.

"Tell me everything about the call first," I said with a calm voice.

"There's not much to say! The person on the other end of the line claimed his name was Brian and that he was in possession of a video with sexual content. He threatened to release it on the Internet. The site is already online."

"Online?" I looked up.

"Yes, I checked, There's a "bestsexwithdanielarnault" address. It actually just shows the player and announces that the video is coming soon. Right below that, there's a countdown clock."

I shuddered just thinking about it.

"And Brian will put it online if I don't pay?" I asked.

"You got it, my dear."

Robert sat down with an artificial sovereignty across from me in the chair.

"What do you think?" Does he have a recording?" I asked with growing concern.

"I think you're the one who would know best where someone could have gotten their hands on such footage."

I drank the scotch all at once and stared at the approximately 10,000 pound Persian rug at my feet. Hesitantly, I began to tell him where I had actually picked Daniel up at and that we had been intimate there. When I finished, there was a long silence. Then Robert finally answered in a surprisingly sober manner.

"To summarize: It's to be assumed that this video exists. And it is also to be assumed that this man or woman...however you want to look at it – will upload it. If these assumptions are correct than it's better that you pay."

Surprised by how quickly Robert came to his verdict, I looked up.

"And what if after I pay him, he uploads it anyway?"

"Why would he do that?" Robert calmly turned his glass in his hands.

"Triumph, scorn, contempt. Brian can't stand me," I summed up.

"Which is mutual, I suppose."

Robert's voice sounded somewhat distinguished. His comments began to get on my nerves. I got up and poured myself a second drink. I forgot to fill his glass up again.

"What about copies? What if after the first million, he keeps on demanding more? Brian is probably laughing himself to death right now! He'll be able to be blackmail for all of eternity and I swear he will suck me dry. He is a devil!"

"You seem to know him pretty well..."

"Robert!" I indignantly blurted out as I walked around the front of his chair. When I saw him sitting there with a surprised look on his face, my anger immediately subsided. I brushed a strand of hair from my face and leaned against the wall with a feeling of emptiness.

"Please, excuse me. This is just getting the best of me," I quietly said.

"Listen, Rosalie. What we have here is a case of attempted extortion. In my opinion, we should wait for it to actually take place before going to the police. Because it has to do with Daniel Arnault, they will act quickly. They can't allow such a case to become an example for other would-be extortionists. We can gain time by paying and will have a clear charge to bring against him that the police will surely be interested in."

My gaze wandered through the room and I nodded reluctantly.

"That's a possibility. But why pay first?" I tried to understand.

"It is the only alternative, because if just one second of this recording goes public, your newly started career as a children's book author will be over. Do you have a breach of contract clause in your contracts? What do you think will happen if they have to destroy all of the tableware?"

I froze and closed my eyes.

"I don't have a million," I finally resignedly replied.

"As far as I'm informed, Daniel has several and you have free access to them."

"You know that his money is taboo for me."

Robert stood up and walked towards me. His voice had a somewhat cynical undertone when he began to try to persuade me.

"I'm not sure that Daniel, wherever he may be, would appreciate your modesty concerning this particular matter. His career would also be irreparably damaged. I can't know exactly what took place in that....room, but I am sure that the world will very much take interest in it."

Blood rushed to my face and my temperature rose as I thought about what would be seen in the video. 'It would be immaculately pornographic in any case,' my gallows humor joked out of a separate part of my brain. I pushed myself off of the wall and wandered restlessly through the room.

"Why did he call you?"

"Such questions are no longer relevant. I'm Daniel's lawyer and I was asked to fulfill the demands within the next 48 hours."

I ran my hand over my eyes and put my drink down on the table. Tired, I sat down on the arm of the rectangular chair.

"Okay...I...I'll think about it. I have to sleep on it."

Robert seemed unsatisfied.

"If you are able to sleep tonight."

I looked up and my eyes met his. Something in me unreasonably gained the impression that we were enemies.

"That is at least still my own problem," I sighed and took the last swallow out of my glass.

As to be expected, I was restless throughout the night. Robert, who thanks to tranquilizers had no problem sleeping soundly, didn't notice any of my shifting back and forth. Around two o' clock in the night, I went into the living room. The room was silent and dark. I sat down on one of the chairs and looked around. The antique clock on the shelf was ticking loudly. My eyes looked into the gray around me and observed the diffuse contours of the furniture. Robert had decorated in a very English and conservative style. Status symbols were of the utmost importance to him and the room was correspondingly full of impractical objects. I became aware of the fact that I really hated cluttered rooms. The longer I sat there, the worse I felt. The clock struck half past three as I began to get dressed again. I didn't know where I was going, but I wanted to get away from this place. My common sense warned me with a sharp tone:

'You're digging yourself a deeper and deeper hole! Stop upsetting Robert. Take one of his sleeping pills and lay back down next to him. You need him now. The situation is bad enough. At least leave him a note.' My voice of reason prevailed – at least a little. I left him a short note that I had driven to Selassie and then I left the house. Only after I had been driving for a while did I realize that I was heading straight for Daniel's address. When I brought my car to a stop in front of his house, I was nervous and just sat there for a short time looking at the property from outside. I hadn't set foot at this place since I moved out. Mrs. Brown forwarded all of the relevant mail to me and I called her at regular intervals to discuss any matters that needed attending to. Even after all the time that had passed, these calls were also still difficult for me to deal with because they reminded of the time in my life in which I was most definitely the happiest. Weak in the knees, I left the car and hesitantly headed towards the front door.

"2323", I muttered as I entered the code for the alarm system and the door sprang open as if by magic. The familiar smell of the place immediately enveloped me. I shuddered, because it seemed as if the past had come to life again. The door fell loudly shut behind me. The rooms had remained as they were – even the golf books and scripts were stacked neatly on his desk in front of the large window facing the garden as if Daniel had just left the house. I turned away quickly and, confused, asked myself what I was actually doing here. I was definitely crazy for subjecting myself to such a self-torturous undertaking, but something in me still harbored hope. For what, I didn't know. Resisting my impulse to immediately leave, I went up to the first floor. I first entered Selassie's old room. Everything there was evidence of the time that had passed. The decor and toys weren't really appropriate for her age, since she had developed quite rapidly in the last months. In addition to that, I had taken almost nothing with me when I moved out, because I had a deep need to not be reminded of our life together by any of it. Content, I noticed that this room hardly had an effect on me, even though we had sat together here every now and then after Selassie had fallen asleep. Here, our common spirit had prevailed and spontaneous conversations took place which served to deepen and enrich our relationship. Living in the house together had been extremely satisfying. Nevertheless, this chapter was done and over with. I turned around and closed the door to then look around in the hallway. The door to the bedroom we shared caught my eye. I went towards it. Anxious, I hesitated a few seconds before my hand reached for the door handle. I was almost afraid that Daniel could be lying inside sleeping. I quickly tossed these absurd fantasies aside and opened the door. I noticed it immediately. This room emanated pain. When I saw the empty bed in front of me, all-encompassing loneliness took hold of me and I shivered. Regardless of my emotions, I looked around in the room and with slow footsteps I moved towards the closet to open it. Daniel's clothes lay neatly stacked in a pile in front of me. In his free time, his favorite things to wear were neutral long sleeved shirts or classic white shirts and they always looked good on him. He was one of the few men who, in an unobtrusive manner, showed that he had excellent taste. I carefully touched the soft cotton and it seemed as if I got an electric shock. All of a sudden, my knees felt weak and with a pounding heart, I sat down on the soft carpet and gave free rein to my feelings. My eyes focused on the thick piled carpet and the memories began to blur. I regretted the world the way it was, broken and replaced by one which seemed thoroughly desolate to me. Despite my success, despite my beloved daughter. I became more and more confused and I started to cry. Each individual tear that I had suppressed since Daniel's disappearance spilled out. It was the first time that I had really allowed myself to let it all out and it took half an eternity before I calmed down again. However, when my outburst finally subsided, I felt relieved and free. I wiped my face, put my self-pity away and got myself ready to leave. Tired and exhausted, I still had a few questions before leaving the room:

"What should I do now? Damn it, where are you? Why did you leave me here all alone?"

No one answered me. The silence had a sobering effect. There was just nothingness and I left the house with a feeling of elementary indifference. Once back outside in the fresh morning air, I blamed myself for being weak and returning here. But maybe it was a farewell to the convenience of not having to decide anything myself concerning Daniel's interests. He had entrusted me with his fortune then it wasn't my problem if, under the given circumstances, he would soon be a million poorer. I felt cleansed, disillusioned and good when I parked my car on Robert's guest parking spot a little later.

"You'll just have to pay!" I hissed. "I won't let my career be ruined by you. You'll have to bleed. Not me!" Daniel Arnault and I were through. I was sure that I would never doubt this fact again after this night. This idea enlivened me, even if it left a terribly bitter taste behind. I looked at my watch and got out of the car. It was nearly half past five in the morning. I decided to not go back to bed, but instead took a lengthy bath and prepared Robert a breakfast fit for a king. He reacted with surprise and I remained resolute in my decision when I touched glasses filled with his best champagne with him and announced that I planned to go to the bank right away to transfer the required sum. After hearing my plans, nothing else mattered to him and he sprang out of bed not paying any attention to anything else around him. While he was getting dressed, he only spoke about the disaster I had averted with my decision. I found his reaction to be incomprehensible and I watched him in his wardrobe's mirror as he went through his morning preparation ritual in the bathroom. In this moment, I realized that I would leave him. Soon. And without any regrets.

As Robert set off for his office, I immediately began my trip to the bank. Unlike him, I wasn't sure that his plan would be one hundred percent successful. But I didn't have any other idea how I could keep any further damage from taking place. So there I was, waiting in the consultant's outer office when my phone suddenly rang. Actually, I expected it to be Robert, who wanted to be informed about every step, but something completely different happened instead.

"Hello?" I apathetically asked and smiled fleetingly at the secretary sitting at her desk nearby.

"Where are you?" I unexpectedly heard Daniel's voice ask. I jumped up startled and thought I was dreaming.

"Daniel?" Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the curious gaze of the secretary from behind her desk.

"How are you Rosalie?" I heard his voice come out of the tiny speaker as if disembodied.

"Well..." with a quick side-glance at the secretary, I quickly turned around, picked up my purse and left the room without looking left or right again.

"Where are you?" I asked and stormed off through the main hall of the bank on autopilot.

"I arrived in London an hour ago by train."

My knees buckled for a moment. It couldn't be possible that Daniel had returned – just a few hours after I had left his house.

"You're in London?" I asked in disbelief.

"Yes. I looked for you everywhere and saw that all of your clothes is gone."

I bit my lower lip and stepped into the stream of faceless people on the street.

"I...I haven't lived in your house for a long time."

"Where in God's name are you?"

"I, well at the moment I'm at the bank," I said with a nervous laugh.

"At the bank?" he asked to reconfirm it for himself.

"Yes." My heart suddenly raced, just like the police car that was just driving past me with its wailing sirens. We both remained silent.

"Rosa, I want to see you. Right away. And Selassie. Can you come here?" he asked all at once.

"Have you lost your mind?" I hysterically blurted out. "Now, all of a sudden?!"

"It was a long time, I know. I'm sorry, but I wasn't able get done any sooner."

"Oh?" I reacted, suddenly upset. What did you all get done in the meantime? I hope your secret undertakings were a complete success."

"Yes, they were. But it would be impossible to explain it to you on the phone. Tell me where and when we can see each other. Can I come to you?"

I leaned against one of the street lights, raised my eyes to the sky and exploded.

"You didn't want to see me for over half a year, let alone talk! What could you possibly have to explain to me now? That you want to take your beloved daughter and me back into your arms? Why your actions are in the process of ruining my career? And yours? It's just wonderful that you've found a little time to come visit. I just can't wait! I really don't want to be at this stupid bank acting as the mistress of your mighty fortune. Daniel, it would be best, if you got your ass down here and took care of the mess that your lovely friend Brian has made." I took a deep breath and added scornfully: "Your friendly banker is waiting patiently!"

"Rosalie, what in the world are you talking about?" he replied emphatically, but it didn't move me.

"You don't have a clue? Then you weren't able to take care of everything apparently," I said mockingly.

"Rosa, stop being so dramatic," he told me.

"Dramatic you say? Did I hear right? I don't think I could possibly keep up with you or Brian in that department!" I yelled into the phone literally gasping for breath at the same time and drawing the attention of passers-by.

"Rosalie, we're not getting anywhere this way. Tell me what happened."

"Are you online?"

"Yes..."

"Then when you have the opportunity enter the address 'bestsexwithdanielarnault' into your browser. The player isn't working yet, but that will change soon if your friend Brian has to go on living in poverty."

"What player...?"

"The one that will play the video of you and me having sex in that goddamn brothel in Frankfurt and that Brian is going to put online in an estimated thirty hours from now if I don't transfer a million pounds to him. And do you know what? I don't at all feel like juggling around with your money! So get your ass here and take care of this – now!"

There was a brief silence on the other side of the line.

"Okay. Now tell me again slowly and start over from the beginning," he replied calmly.

"No! I yelled. "Nothing's going to start over! Call your lawyer Robert. He will be happy to tell you the story in great detail!"

"Why Robert?"

"He is your lawyer."

"Rosalie..."

"...and my new partner, so please be tactful – if you even know what that is anymore. I hope you have fun. Farewell."

Angry, I hung up and suddenly noticed how I was shaking all over. As if on drugs, I ran to the nearest pay and display machine to pay my parking tolls to the City of London. I barely managed to insert the coins - that's how upset I was. An attractive man of my age asked me with a courteous smile if I needed help. I looked up nervously and shook my head.

"No, unfortunately not."

"That's a pity."

"Yes, I think so too."

I left him standing there and hurried to my car which I was barely able to get started. I almost had an accident when my phone rang at the first busy intersection again and Daniel's number appeared on the screen. I clambered for it and turned it off. I had to pay attention to traffic. Driving on the left hand side of the road still required a great deal of concentration and I needed my peace and quiet. I took the direct route to my apartment. When I stormed in completely exhausted, Alma looked at me in her discreet astonished way. I instructed her to pick up Selassie from Kindergarten and "keep her occupied somehow!"

Then I went directly to bed and I tried to get my contradictory feelings in line. The situation pulled and tugged on my nerves. That Daniel had returned out of the blue - and right after the night where I had severed ties to my last feelings for him in his house – left me in shock. On the other hand, I thanked the gods that I didn't have to make the decision to transfer a million pounds to a Swiss bank account. I closed my eyes and tried to relax while I waited for the things that were certain to come.

The doorbell ripped me out of a deep sleep. Dazed, I sat up and looked around. The clock said it was early in the evening and I went with slow footsteps to the door. I picked up the handset of the intercom with a queasy feeling and was relieved when I heard Robert's voice. I let him in.

"You turned off your phone," he said reproachfully as he entered. "I could only guess that you were here."

"Yes..." I let him in. "I'm sorry, I needed some rest."

"After Daniel resurfaced?" he asked provocatively.

"Have you talked with him?" I asked soberly back.

"He has gone mad. He burst in on an important meeting with a client. And he looked terrible..."

Robert loosened the knots of his tie and raised his eyebrows critically. I turned away quickly and pulled him into the living room, which was far removed from his standardized notions of luxury. He had always avoided visiting me in my apartment. I suspected it was too plain for him. I had implemented Asian simplicity in its furnishing and decoration, something that Robert hated, but for which I had a deep need.

"Make me a drink please. I had a long day."

After giving me a hard look, he sat down on the sofa that Selassie had once beautified with her felt markers. That Robert always was worried about messing up his expensive suit caused me great disconcertment. I went silently into the kitchen and discovered to my relief that there was a bottle of white wine in the refrigerator. I had neither a bar nor a large supply of alcohol in my apartment. When I opened the bottle, I sniffed the cork, concerned.

"Perfect!" I was relieved and went with the two glasses and opened bottle back to Robert.

"My slumber grows ever more peaceful – Brahms! Since when do you listen to this kind of music?" Robert sneered and turned a CD around in his hands as I set the glasses down on the table.

"It was a promotional gift," I answered with resignation.

"Ah..."

"What happened to put you in such a bad mood?"

"To make it short: Daniel claims that there is no video."

He loosened the knot of his silk tie. Amazed, I sat down next to him and poured two glasses.

"How does he know?"

"He says he knows."

"Is that all?"

"Yes."

I looked at him blankly. Robert's eyes looked at me, scrutinizing me from head to toe.

"He treated me like an enemy, Rosalie. He's a goddamn liar who wants to destroy your career because we are together. I could see it in his eyes. You can't imagine in what kind of condition he is in... - completely unkempt! His hair is almost shoulder length and I don't want to know what he's been up to in the 'underground'..."

I cleared my throat and it bothered me to realize that my imagination had immediately produced a picture of Daniel that showed how well long hair suited him.

"So there's not going to be a payment?" I asked.

"No." Robert sounded bitter.

"That what I would prefer to."

"You're just as crazy as he is," he exclaimed, upset.

My gaze sank to the floor and I shook my head. When I looked back into Robert's eyes, I harvested a big nothing. At the same moment, we heard the front door being opened. Selassie squealed her standard "Mommy! Mommy!" and rushed in to us.

"Hello my love!" I took her in my arms and lifter her onto my lap. Robert became uncomfortable, stood up and said goodbye – this time a little too fast.

No video was released on the site. Not the next day or the one after that either. The countdown clock merely stopped at zero and nothing happened. I became cautiously optimistic at the thought that I could now put this distressing issue behind me. But no sooner had the first problem went away, a second one popped up: Daniel continued to try to get in touch with me. He called me several times a day, sent e-mails or the occasional text message. I, however, was very afraid of facing him. My feelings were so mixed-up that I just did one thing out of self-preservation: Nothing at all. Almost obsessively, I concentrated on my work because it was the only way I managed to distract myself from Daniel's return. And so I was sitting at my desk one evening organizing my documents when the doorbell rang. Surprised, I looked up. It was late and I wasn't expecting company. A faint idea of who it could be came to me as I went to pick up the intercom receiver.

"Yes?" I asked cautiously.

"Rosalie, it's me." I heard Daniel's voice come out of nowhere.

"You? Where did you get my address?" I felt how I instantly broke out in a cold sweat. The receiver almost slipped out of my wet hand, that's how fast my autonomic nervous system responded to his unexpected close proximity.

"The publisher gave it to me. Will you let me in?" he asked.

"Daniel, that's...-that's not going to happen."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to see you."

"Be reasonable!"

"I am being reasonable!"

"Rosalie, do you seriously think it's okay to leave me standing out here like a stranger?"

"I'm sorry, but I can't help it."

"Rosa, what wrong?" Daniel's voice sounded gentle. All my hairs stood on end.

"Don't call me Rosa." My hand slid across the smooth surface of the door. Disconcerted, I bit my lip and noticed that everything in me was reacting too hastily and stubborn.

"It's not fair that you won't talk to me..."

I took a deep breath. It was the inflammatory word that I had been waiting for.

"Fair? You of all people have the nerve to say 'fair'? Daniel, listen to me good: I'm not interested in what you have to say. I had been interested for quite a long while after you left me alone, standing there in that driveway. But that's a long time ago. Stop disturbing my new life. You have no right..."

He was silent a few seconds before he answered.

"I know that the situation was difficult but it wasn't just for you. We have to talk about it together, then..."

"I don't have to do anything at all," I interrupted him angrily and froze stiff. Every bit of flexibility in me disappeared and was replaced by a high wall that I had built around me in no time flat. He was silent again for a moment.

"How is Selassie doing?" he finally asked.

"Wonderful."

"Do you want her to forget me? I'm the only father she has. No one else will be able to fulfill this role. Certainly not Robert, who loves his suits more than any children. Why do you want to destroy even more?"

I moved away from the door, which I had literally stuck to and my knees buckled. I slid slowly to the floor and landed in a crouch. I hated him for it, for recognizing the facts so well, because Robert's interest in Selassie was equal to zero. And when my daughter babbled on about 'Daddy', which was more often than I liked, she never meant Robert. I came to a decision at the speed of light.

"Okay, okay!" I replied hastily, without saying anything else.

"Yes?" he asked expectantly.

"Then have her picked up at 2 p.m. On Saturday, if that suits you – and don't dare show up here in person, otherwise I'll change my mind."

"That's at least a start." His voice sounded relieved. "Does she remember me?"

"Yes," I replied briefly and brushed my hair from my forehead, in despair over my own stubbornness.

"Then the odds are in my favor with her at least."

"That's great. Then we've clarified everything," I remarked defiantly. Absurdly, I felt hurt by his statement.

"We haven't clarified anything at all. Rosalie. I'm the one who loves you. This intermezzo with Robert is ridiculous and it's not you. You know as well as I..."

I saw red and I could have torn the carpet up with my fingernails. That's how angry his ability to bluntly get to the heart of the matter made me.

"Stop claiming that you know better than me who I am and who is better suited for me," I aggressively hissed. "That's ridiculous. And just as insolent as your behavior. Now get away from my building."

Daniel was silent and I knew my words had hit home. A bitter smile wandered over my lips. His voice sounded terribly despondent when he finally replied:

"That won't be a problem. But you should know that you can call me. Anytime. Day or night. I would really like that."

"Well then..." I replied with difficulty.

"Rosalie, I will wait," he added.

"Yes. Thank you. That's great. Have fun with that." I threw the intercom receiver and felt tears welling up in my eyes. My fingers combed into my hair and clung tightly to it. I buried my head in my knees and felt the moist heat which spread over the entire surface of my skin. This man's power over me had a way of breaking down my will. Even after all this time, he managed to completely capture my heart. No sooner had he walked back into my life than I wanted nothing else but to be _with him_. I hated myself for not being strong enough to face Daniel, but what I hated the most of all was that he immediately saw the whole truth.

My relationship with Robert began to die off considerably during the course of this week. I slept exclusively at my apartment, which didn't seem to bother Robert. He buried himself in his work and whenever we talked on the phone, he absurdly preferred to talk about his new suit made of Indian silk. In the meantime, the publisher of my first book wanted me to write another book starring the characters, but I didn't feel like philosophizing any further with "Polo and Trixie". Instead I sent them an abstract of a story about a tortoise's 160th birthday celebration that I had come up with. Everyone there was excited about a "philosophical incursion into the concept of space and time in a children's book". I gladly welcomed their praise and wondered where I got the energy I needed to implement my ideas adequately. But my work had developed into a kind of protection mechanism.

Then the Saturday came on which I took Selassie out to the new Porsche Cayenne commendably equipped with a child's seat, which Daniel had sent on ahead, complete with driver. When I put my daughter in the vehicle, I realized that I had gotten Selassie perhaps a bit too worked up about her reunion with her father. She squealed and tugged on me as if she were going to Disneyland. I was ashamed at the thought that I might have used her as projection surface for my own feelings, but I quickly dismissed the notion and buckled her safely into the booster seat. Then I turned to the driver, apparently specially hired for this occasion, who treated me with the utmost courtesy.

"Please inform Mr. Arnault that I expect my daughter to be back at 7:30 this evening," I impersonally ordered, even though he carried no fault in the matter. The driver nodded politely, made sure that Selassie had been put in the seat correctly and got in the car. As they drove away, I waved at my daughter and immediately went to have lunch with Robert at one of the finest restaurants near the Tate Gallery. He seemed to be in a good mood, treated me courteously and was attentive. I stayed opposite him, as always, interested but dispassionate. During the afternoon on this day we slept with each other again for the first time. After we arrived at his house after lunch, Robert opened a bottle of Dom Perignon and his seduction technique was rather clever this time compared to his usual method. I closed my eyes and was irritated when I began to imagine that it was Daniel's hands that were touching me. I knew that I shouldn't do it, but I was too weak and gave in to the impulse. To completely lose myself in the fantasy wasn't possible anyway, because Robert in no way possessed the same level of skill as Daniel. He lacked passion, intent, fantasy – simply everything that the fine nuances of ecstasy required. Daniel always touched every centimeter of my skin in a new way – sometimes gentle and almost imperceptible, then unexpectedly demanding and determined. I had loved it and longed for it since hearing his voice again. While Robert and I were in the act, I almost regretted not letting Daniel in. Why was I actually so foolish? I think Robert noticed something was up, because I acted even more distant during our lovemaking than I did during our day to day life. A lot had changed since Daniel had returned.

Selassie thought so too, hardly having arrived back home in the evening. She was as excited as if she had been at a children's birthday party, chattered incessantly about daddy and her old room where Daniel apparently had installed a swing on which she had flown "so high". Cotton candy and piggyback riding had also been among the festivities. I also became aware that I wasn't solely responsible for raising her and that was a very liberating feeling. Still on the same evening after just having put Selassie to bed, I received an e-mail from Daniel which consisted of only two words:

"Thank you."

I swallowed and regret grew within me because I had not been part of their afternoon. I stared for a long time at the screen and spontaneously decided to write back. I poured myself a glass of wine and clicked on the respond button. After brief hesitation, I quickly typed up a harmless reply with ease. I thanked him for having gone to such great lengths and told him that Selassie had thoroughly enjoyed the afternoon. I kept on typing and wrote that I was happy that their reunion had been a success and that he could gladly pick up Selassie next weekend again since she was already dying to see him again. If it was okay with him, he should simply confirm the appointment. I sent my greetings and quickly sent the mail before I could change my mind. I wanted to act a bit more accessible because I felt a little silly about behaving so awkwardly. I had a growing need to normalize things. After all, it had to do with the well-being of a little girl. I went to bed early this evening and, after overcoming the usual difficulty I had falling asleep, strange dreams ensued about a fundamental dispute before a world court in which Daniel was the judge and was trying to mediate. I woke up around six in the morning covered in sweat and it took great effort to turn and lay on my side. My gaze fell on the wall which still had the previous tenant's wallpaper on it. I realized that I wasn't going to stay here anymore – and that it wasn't the way I wanted to live my life. The next morning I already received Daniel's confirmation e-mail. It was written in the same sober tone as mine. He suggested in the long-term to think about letting Selassie spend the night at his house.

"I received a very nice model of an adventure bed from Pasquale and will order it if it's okay with you. I'm sure that Selassie will love playing on it. Thank you for your offer. I'm looking forward to seeing her again sooner than expected. I'll have her picked up next Saturday at the same time again if I don't hear otherwise from you."

In the e-mail there was no signature, instead just a simple:

"I love you."

I reacted shyly and gave a brief answer:

"That'll be fine."

Several weekends went by and in the meantime Selassie was being picked up almost every Saturday and spent the night at Daniel's while Robert and I usually went out. During the week we barely saw each other, which, however, didn't seem to bother either one of us. On this Saturday, Robert's law firm had a very stuffy business reception and I had used his exclusive club to take advantage of a wellness program. I swam in saltwater pools, had Chinese masseuses work their magic on me and received cosmetic treatment as well. For some unknown reason, I wanted to be "the fairest of them all" this evening. I was hungry for compliments which were supposed to fix my battered self-confidence. Determined, I unlocked the door to my apartment and made my way to my bedroom to select a suitable dress for the reception. I chose a silk evening dress, put my hair up and put just a little make up on. I thought that less suited my face. Robert was of the complete opposite opinion:

"You have the high cheekbones of a Slav. It would be a shame not to improve upon nature," he always made sure to say. But I paid no mind to his comments. It was in his nature to hate every form of modesty and he wanted me to have as vain an appearance as himself. Since the plans this evening had to do with an event for his firm, for his sake, I put on dark red lipstick and the perfume that he regularly gave me as gift, which I now had a pile of in a drawer. When I was ready, I called for a taxi to take me to his office downtown. No sooner did I open the building door downstairs than I saw two uniformed policemen in front of me, whose eyes were busy searching the doorbell nameplates. Astonished, I saw them press the button next to my name.

"You want to see me?" I asked, surprised.

"Ms. Lepore?"

"Yes. What's going on?" I asked, wondering. One of the two officers cleared his throat and began to deliver his message in a professional manner: "Miss, I'm sorry but we have to inform you of some unpleasant news. It has to do with your daughter..."

"Selassie?" I asked while my heart skipped a beat and I turned pale on the spot.

"We're very sorry, but your daughter has been in an accident."

"What accident...?!" My fingers clutched the officer's arm and I looked searchingly into his eyes. "Oh my God, what's happened?!"

"Mr. Arnault's driver...he didn't see her when he was backing up the car. She has a head injury and was taken to Charter Hospital. At the moment they are carrying out all of the necessary examinations."

"What...what examinations?" I asked, releasing my grip.

"When she was taken by the paramedics, your daughter's vital signs were stable, but she was unconscious. Right now they are trying to determine if there are any internal injuries."

Suddenly I felt very weak. At the same moment the taxi pulled up.

"My God! I have to get to her..." I pushed uncontrollably past the officers to run to the waiting vehicle and call out to the driver hastily: "Charter Hospital, hurry!"

The car immediately took off, but no speed could be fast enough for my liking.

"Listen, I'm really in a hurry!" I already insisted just a minute later and had reached the limit of my own vital functions. A construction site along the way didn't help matters either. Nervously, I searched the directory in my phone for Daniel's number, but only the mailbox answered. I threw the phone back into my evening bag that Robert had bought to decorate me with and I cursed the large size of the city, the heavy traffic and especially the careless driver who had surprisingly stepped in for Martin, Selassie's usual chauffeur. Meanwhile, my taxi driver had really noticed that it had something to do with an accident and was now driving quite fast. Nevertheless, I badgered him impatiently every time we had to slow down.

"Miss, you can see for yourself...I can't go any faster. What happened?"

"My daughter...she...she was hit by a car."

"Oh my God...that's terrible."

I nodded silently and wiped the tears away which had begun to escape from the corners of my eyes. I was worried to death. I started to pray, counted the money for the taxi driver and literally threw it at him as soon as we had reached the hospital. I quickly ran to the information desk and asked for the room number. Being watched by the wondering eyes of the other visitors, I ran to the station. Out of breath, I pulled open the door with the number 402 on it and looked into the single bed room. There lay my daughter in much too large of a bed – connected to way too many machines. I staggered, because I also noticed something else, that urgently entered into my consciousness: Daniel's much too green eyes that looked at me straight on from the other side of the bed. Their expression hit me like an arrow and in the same second the last piece of solid ground was pulled out from beneath my feet. I fell backwards and in a parallel world the spheres gathered together uncontrollably to begin a journey. An uncontrolled sound escaped my vocal chords. The earth opened up and I stood before a gigantic crater. In the real world, I let go of the door handle and ran frantically to the head of Selassie's hospital bed without paying any more attention to Daniel. Stunned, I looked at my daughter's face. She looked like she was sleeping peacefully. The absurdity of this scenario was unmasked by the numerous cables that were coming out of her nose and from under her blanket. I heard the unchanging ambient noise coming from the equipment and it felt as if I had finally arrived in a waking nightmare.

"Oh my God!" I blurted out in disbelief. I bent down to her and carefully touched her cheek, her arms, her body. "My sweetheart...my dearest sweetheart – come on, _talk to me_..." I whispered with a trembling voice. But no answer came, I just heard the continued humming of the machines and felt Daniel's gaze. I hated the existence of this moment and wished I could just erase it and draw a happy world in its place. My cheek pressed against my daughter's cheek and I stayed there. My tears began to slowly run down my face as I carefully ran my hand through her hair. After a short time, I heard Daniel's voice. It sounded as calm and pleasant as I remembered it being.

"There was no clinical finding. She's okay. She hit her head on the ground and has a bruise on the back right of her head. The doctors..." He took a deep breath in before he continued. "...the doctors assume that, due to the impact, some kind of shock is responsible for her being unconscious. She could come to any moment."

Unwillingly, I looked up. Daniel's eyes were fixed on the floor, as if there was something special to see there. His elbows were on his knees and his hands were folded together. Watching him sitting there was unbearable.

"You bastard..." I blurted out. "What have you done?"

Daniel looked up. His expression was profound and full of pain. I shuddered and I felt an army of ants under my skin. With slow movements, I leaned forward like a wild animal. I wanted to extinguish him just as I did this terrible reality that had suddenly manifested.

"You monster! You...killer!" I hissed with hostility and stepped away from the bed. I was desperate and felt like I was about to lose control over _everything_. Daniel got up too and stepped towards me. "I just hate it..." I sputtered out and watched in fear and weakness as he came closer. "...I just hate that you're constantly ruining everything the moment you show up in the lives of others! Get out of mine finally and stay out!

He stood before me and I felt the hypnotic attraction that his body had on me. It was hard to breathe, so hard that I started to move to the side to escape. But Daniel's hand reacted too fast. It felt red hot when he grabbed my lower arm to hold me back. I tore myself away.

"Don't touch me! Don't even dare..." I screamed hysterically and moved backwards towards the wall. "How could I have given you my child? I must have been crazy!" Horrified, I watched as Daniel followed me. A strand of hair fell in front of his eyes as he looked at me with an earnest gaze and stopped just a few centimeters away.

"Rosa, you have to calm down," he insisted calmly. I could feel the temperature in the room rise to what felt like a hundred degrees. I would have done anything to stop my regressive feelings. He raised his hand up just like at our first encounter. But this time he didn't put it back down, but instead stroked my hair. I stood motionless and time froze for several seconds until I reacted: "Take you damn hands off of me! Who do you think you are?" I hit his chest to push him away. Once, twice, but he didn't move. In irregular intervals I beat I hammered with my fists on him, but he remained motionless and just received my blows without defending himself. When I finally sank down to the floor crying, he grabbed my wrists and pulled me up. His touch seemed like handcuffs. His scent seemed bewitching and intense in my parallel world. I took a deep breath and let my forehead sink forward to fall against his chest.

"I hate you!" I whispered. "I hate you so much. You're nothing but trouble!" I impulsively started to cry even harder and felt helpless in the face of all the pain and despair. When he tried to put his arms around me in a comforting gesture, I resisted with such force that I surprised even myself. Dizzy, I summoned almost superhuman-like strength to push him away from me.

"Stop it!" I cried with a hoarse voice. "Go back to where you came from! Leave my child alone! Leave me alone...Go! Just go now! Go..."

Instead, he grabbed my upper arm, applying strong pressure. I writhed and wriggled and my muscles remained tightened. I was breathing heavily, like an animal in captivity.

"Stay calm!" he urged. "She will sleep herself better. We need to pay attention to her now, instead of us..."

"What are you talking about? Let go of me...damn it _, take your hands off of me!_ "

I shook off his hand with a frenzied movement and finally broke free. Daniel's hands sunk down, dejected.

"What you see lying there is no sleeping child. As far as I know, something like this is called a coma..." I informed him. Daniel's facial features responded in pain as he heard my words and he turned aside. "...and I've never heard of anyone being able to tell when someone with a coma will wake up again. No one. Not a doctor and not you or me either. God only knows!! And all of this because some careless person that you hired out of nowhere couldn't look in the rear-view mirror! Daniel, this is too much!" I said trying to catch my breath and calm down so could I trace the events back to where all of this had started. I remembered exactly the uneasy feeling I had when a new driver had gotten out of the car this morning introducing himself as Martin's replacement. With a jittery movement I leaned against the white wall across from the bed. The pain of seeing my unconscious daughter lying opposite me sickened my heart.

"Rosalie, I didn't hire this man. No one knows who he is," he replied calmly. In disbelief, I looked up and saw his serious green and orange eyes.

"What are you trying to say?" I asked in a flat tone.

"Since the accident, this man has disappeared off the face of the earth. The personnel service that arranges for all the drivers doesn't know him. He is not the temporary worker he claimed to be – something else is going on here."

"How do you mean that?" my eyes widened and his words slowly penetrated into my consciousness. He stared at me incessantly. I begrudgingly closed my eyes and turned my head to the side. Cold crept inside me and felt fine tremors move through my muscle strands. Helpless, I wrapped my arms around myself.

"The police have launched a manhunt," he went on. "The alarm system recorded a picture of him."

"Are you saying that this accident was no accident?" I reasoned, in disbelief.

"I don't know," Daniel's eyes scanned my face. "I have no idea what this all means."

We both fell silent. I thought I could hear his heart beating, and then realized that it was my own.

"Oh my God...I...I should have called you before letting him drive away with Selassie!" I stammered, stricken with guilt all of a sudden.

"No," he decisively answered. "No one could have seen it coming. When the driver introduced himself to Mrs. Brown, he had papers from the agency with him. There was no reason to suspect that something fishy was going on."

Out of nowhere, my phone rang. In a daze, I stared at my bag, which I had just thrown on the floor when I arrived without thinking about it. The wall behind me seemed to freeze. The ringing stopped, only to start again. My gaze fell on the machine displaying the heartbeat of my daughter. The curves on the screen moved in a rhythm similar to the ring tone's. Irritated, I turned away and ran to my bag. Kneeling down, I searched for my phone. Robert's name appeared on the display. I was almost surprised because I had completely forgotten that he even existed and nervously pressed the answer button.

"Yes?"

"Where in God's name are you?" I heard Robert's strained voice. "All of the major clients are already here – along with their wives!"

"Oh, great. A complete success then?" I soberly stated.

"When are you coming? You can't possibly leave me standing out in the rain here!"

"Yes...no...well..." Tense, I stroked my forehead and turned around in a complete circle. "I'm in the hospital, Selassie had an accident."

"What kind of accident?"

"She was hit by a car and is in..." I paused and corrected myself quickly. "She is currently unconscious."

"Is it serious?"

I stood up coolly and brushed individual strands of hair back which had escaped their pinned up position.

"We're waiting for her to wake up. Fortunately, there aren't any internal injuries as it stands."

"That's great! Baby, I'm so sorry for you."

"Yes..." I nodded stoically. "Me too."

"Good, listen: I'll try to get away from here as soon as possible and come to you!"

"No..." I said hastily and began to pace back and forth. "Don't even think about it. This evening is too important for you. And, anyway, I want to be alone with her now. I hope you understand that."

"Yes, of course! Does Daniel know?"

"Yes. But he will be leaving soon."

"Oh...he's there?"

"Yes," with a quick side-glance, I looked at Daniel, who was now leaning against the wall and looking at me as if the task were to make the blind see. I felt the knot in my hair finally give way letting it slowly and heavily fell onto my back. "Robert, I'll call you."

"Of course, dear. Anytime. I'm praying for you to be strong."

When I heard the emptiness in line Robert fed me, I realized that from now on every lie in my life would have to be blotted out. There was no time anymore for silly games.

"Certainly. Thank you, Robert. Farewell." I hung up without waiting for an answer and turned my phone off. Under the watchful gaze of Daniel, I went over to Selassie again, sat down at her side and rested my head on my crossed forearms. My hair fell forward forming a kind of curtain between me and the outside world. I breathed calmly in and out and my fingertips searched for Selassie's arm. I caressed it gently and just remained sitting there that way. I wasn't planning on facing the outside world anytime soon, because I had no idea how to deal with it. Shortly after that, a young, well-groomed doctor entered the room and pulled me back into the everyday world. He casually administered a new infusion while elaborately explaining to me what I already knew: There was no guarantee. Never. We all had to wait and see when and if Selassie would open her eyes again. Everything else was useless banter. When neither Daniel nor I reacted to the remarks of the physician, he turned around to leave, distraught by the mood in the room.

"Do you have any more questions for me?" he said after clearing his throat, much less full of himself than when he first appeared. I shook my head and disconcertingly bedded my head back in my forearms, letting my hair fall back into their protective position. I had already heard what I feared. That was enough for me.

"Dr. Troy..." I heard Daniel's voice and noticed how pleasant its tone was. I absorbed it as he asked the doctor when we could start thinking about transporting Selassie to one of the renowned private clinics and was almost exhilarated when I heard the change in tone of the doctor as he gave his distinguished reply.

"From a medical standpoint, there's no need for it. I would like to point out that you're in the best of hands in our hospital!"

"Of course. When will it be possible?" Daniel didn't let up.

This was the determination of the Daniel I knew. He never allowed himself to be swayed. When I heard how the doctor, embarrassingly affected, cleared his throat again, I found the situation to be almost _amusing_.

'Battle of the hospitals. The fight for private patients and money,' my separate self thought. Spontaneously, I raised my head to focus my gaze on the doctor and thereby show my support of Daniel's opinion. Floundering somewhat, Dr. Troy promised he would look into it immediately and hurriedly left the room. When the door closed, my eyes searched for Daniel who was leaning against the window sill with folded arms. Surprised, I forced a small smile as I remarked: "He changed his tune quite easily."

"Yes, didn't he?!" Daniel smiled too. Our eyes met. He got up and walked to the opposite side of the bed. His hands braced themselves on the edge of the bed and his body leaned towards me. My eyelids fluttered nervously and my muscles began to start vibrating all over again. He was much too present!

"Rosa, do we want to stick this out together?" he asked as his eyes stayed glued to mine. Involuntarily, I bit my lip and looked back. Selassie's small body was laying between us and I suddenly realized that, together, we made a family – and that this intimate domain was inviolable. I nodded. His eyes changed their color and looked from one moment to the next relieved. He stood up and turned around.

"I'll get us some water. It's going to be a long night."

"Daniel...it's not necessary that we both stay," I interjected hastily, because the idea of spending an entire night with him in this room was simply unimaginable.

"Then you go," he insisted gently. "I'll call you as soon as something changes."

"No, you're going to go!" I insisted, determined.

"Rosalie, I have no interest in leaving," he replied emphatically.

"I do, however! And it's not open for discussion!" I said crossing my arms and looking at him defiantly. Exasperated, he stared back and finally gave up. Upset, he walked to the door and his hand reached for the door handle. Then he paused, almost as if he still wanted to say something. Instead, his head sank and I could see how he was breathing heavily. Hypnotized, I stared at his back and watched as he hit the door frame with his hand angrily. I was shocked and wasn't able to speak a word. Daniel left the room without looking back. From one moment to the next, I felt completely alone in the world – and profoundly guilty. I leaned forward towards Selassie and it was impossible to think clearly. So I stayed there for a while until the room door opened again. A nurse was pushing a second bed into the room and I looked at her in surprise.

"At the request of Mr. Arnault," she smiled at me and disappeared quickly after she had checked to make sure that Selassie's condition was stable. I looked at the bed she had brought in and it seemed like just another monstrous apparatus in the now very full room. My guilty conscience had formally taken control over me in the meantime. Daniel obviously wanted peace – and out of weakness, I had separated him from his daughter only because I couldn't handle being with him. Numerous self-reproaches reinforced my already present fundamental state of despair. How could it be that I had turned into this kind of person? Someone who hurt loved ones and literally pushed them away? I was in a horrible state of mind and I feared the next glance in a mirror just as much as lying down on this unfamiliar bed. But I had wanted it this way. I felt stupid and miserable when I finally laid down in the extra bed. I promised myself to go about things differently. Tomorrow.

It must have been around six in the morning when a battery of nurses woke me up. They began to attend to Selassie and informed me that she would be transported to the private Bridge Hospital in the afternoon.

"How come?" I asked, still dazed and shaken from a reality which I had graciously been allowed to forget in my deep sleep.

"Mr. Arnault arranged for it with the head physician," one of the nurses replied, somewhat annoyed. The nurses gave me the impression that I was in the way and so I quickly said goodbye to Selassie and set off for my apartment. I desperately needed a shower and a strong coffee. After that, I wanted to call Daniel to apologize and discuss taking turns watching Selassie. I had barely turned off the shower when I heard the doorbell ring. I cursed under my breath and hastily wrapped a large towel around my body. Expecting a package containing the first drafts of designs for the children's tableware set from my publisher, I opened the front door without thinking it could be someone else. So I looked a little perplexed to find two complete strangers standing on the other side.

"Ms. Lepore?"

"Yes?" I nodded and my gaze wandered questioningly back and forth between the two.

"Leplain's the name. Scotland Yard," the approximately fifty-year old woman with a deep voice introduced herself and then the much younger man next to her. "This is my colleague, Mr. Brox. May we come in?"

"Of course. This way, please," I stepped back and motioned towards the living room. "Please excuse me for a moment while I go put something on."

I quickly ran to my bedroom and pulled a random dress out of the closet. Just a minute later I was back in the hallway and saw the two still standing in the same place. "Please, come this way! Have a seat..." I walked into the living room and motioned for them to sit down.

"What can I do for you?" I asked attentively while I sat down across from them. From the wet tips of my hair, large drops of water fell down onto my dress. Nervous, I brushed my hair back.

"Well Ms. Lepore, we weren't able to reach you by phone in the last several hours so we contacted Mr. Arnault again. He informed us that he has told you the essential details of the accident while you were at the hospital. He tipped us off that we would most likely be able to find you here. It's good that we've been able to catch up with you so quickly," the inspector looked at me with cold eyes.

"Yes, I'm glad to get a chance to talk to you too. Mr. Arnault mentioned strange goings-on regarding this...accident."

"That's why we're here. We hope that by talking to you we will be able to clear up further ambiguities about the case."

"I'll gladly do whatever I can to help."

"First and foremost, we would like to discuss the call that the personnel agency received in the name of Mr. Arnault..." Mr. Brox addressed me while he paged through his notepad, apparently interested. He was approximately in his mid-thirties and his ash blond hair already had some thin spots in it. It was as pale as the rest of him. Only his piercing green eyes made him recognizable as an experienced criminologist.

"I'm listening..." I tried to speed things up.

"This call was placed by a cell phone which was equipped with a prepaid card." He closed his notepad with a decisive movement and looked towards me with his piercing gaze. "This prepaid card was activated in your name and with your ID number. Therefore, it can be concluded that you instructed the agency to relieve the previous driver hired by Mr. Arnault of his duty."

"What?!" I exclaimed in disbelief and leaned back. Almost amused, I shook my head. "Is that supposed to be a joke?!"

"We never joke at Scotland Yard," replied Mr. Brox with a bitter look. "Does that mean you didn't activate a prepaid card?" I heard Inspector Leplain ask in a sharp tone.

"No, of course not! Why would I have done that? I was very pleased with Martin as the driver. He always gave me the impression that he transported my daughter safely and in a manner appropriate for children. I...I don't even know the number of the personnel agency Daniel used...I mean Mr. Arnault!" I corrected myself. "However, I remember that I was surprised myself when somebody else showed up on Saturday claiming to be temping for Martin. But I'm not an over-anxious or mistrusting person and assumed that Martin was just sick."

"Why did you insist on using a driver in the first place?" the Inspector continued to drill me. I noticed them not taking their eyes off of me and began to get the impression I had entered into enemy territory.

"That had private reasons," I replied, uncomfortably.

"What were these private reasons exactly?" the woman continued to assail me. I swallowed and pressed my lips bitterly together. I scanned the face of the unyielding inspector opposite me and, after taking a deep breath, finally answered.

"I didn't want to see Mr. Arnault in person after our separation, but didn't want to stand in the way of him having contact with his daughter either. So I found this approach to be reasonable."

"You suffered from the termination of your relationship with Mr. Arnault?"

"Now wait a minute..." I burst out. "I don't know what this has to do with anything."

"There's no cause for alarm. We're just trying to clarify the facts."

"Yes, then please keep to the facts!" I said somewhat more meekly.

"Have you been to Manchester lately?" Mr. Brox continued the questioning.

"In Manchester?!" I repeated, perplexed, and immediately remembered the fax which Daniel had sent to me from this city.

"No," I succinctly replied. "I primarily stay in London. Why do you ask?"

"Primarily?" The eyes of the inspector scrutinized me to such a degree that it made me nervous. Just as this cross-examination did.

"I haven't left London in over nine months," I replied, irritated. "And I don't think it's very polite that you're treating me like a suspect."

"Please understand Ms. Lepore: No one is judging you." Mr. Brox began to absently page through his notepad again. "So if I understood you correctly: You don't know the hit and run driver?"

"Yes, of course I don't know him! Do you somehow think I would purposely have my daughter hit by a car? What for? And why would I be so stupid as to use my own name? You can believe me: I'm quite interested in figuring out what the hell happened!!"

"Can we see your ID? We would like to compare the data with ours."

"Yes, of course, yes," I replied, somewhat calmer, and went to my desk to open the drawer where I kept all of my important documents. Perplexed, I realized that my ID was not in its usual place. I rummaged through the papers and after a while I stopped, surprised.

"How strange! I always put my ID here! I...I don't understand it..." Distraught, I turned around. The officers remained passive and silent. The situation seemed frozen in time until Mr. Brox finally got up and addressed me.

"Then please inform us as soon as you've found it. If you've lost it, please report it immediately as well."

I stood there dumbfounded and followed them with slow footsteps to the door. The officers had almost reached the stairs when I addressed them once more. I was itching to know the answer to a burning question.

"Excuse me, but might I ask why you wanted to know whether I had been to Manchester?"

"The prepaid card was activated at a telephone provider in Manchester. A few hours before the call was made to the agency. It is the only connection that was made from this number."

I shuddered, because it was obvious that some really foul play had taken place.

"And what happens now?" I asked, tense.

The inspector addressed me with a steely gaze.

"Ms. Lepore, unfortunately we have to assume that a crime has been committed. The evidence indicates that you hired the man who hit your daughter. As a result, we unfortunately have to ask you not to leave the city until further notice and be available for further questioning until all leads have been followed up."

"I'm always at your disposal. You can be sure of that. It's also in my interest to get to the bottom of this," I replied in agreement, even if I was inwardly appalled by her words. The two stepped out and unexpectedly smiled as they took their leave. No sooner had the door closed behind them than I ran to my cell phone and turned it on. Immediately, numerous notifications from Robert appeared on the display. I didn't pay any attention to them and instead dialed Daniel's number. Manchester! That couldn't be a coincidence. He owed me some explanations because I was sure that he would know more about this ominous occurrence than me. Shortly before the mailbox would have taken my call, he answered.

"Rosalie..." I heard his voice, which carried a pleased tone.

"I need to see you – right away!" I insisted.

Just about an hour later I met him at his house. With strands of his almost shoulder-length hair still wet, he opened the door for me. Unlike Robert, I found that longer hair suited him very well.

"Hi Rosalie. Nice to see you here. Come in..."

He smiled at me charmingly, something he was a master at doing. Taken off guard by the scent of his freshly showered skin, I entered the long hallway. Astonished, I realized that the house had very much come back to life in his presence. We entered the living room. "Have a seat. What can I offer you? Coffee? Tea?"

"Scotch."

"For breakfast?"

"My sense of time is a bit off," I smiled a little and felt somewhat distressed about sitting down on the couch where we had spent our evenings together. I quickly shook off the flood of oncoming memories that wanted to submerge me and watched him as he poured two drinks at the bar opposite me. Reluctantly, I felt the change in my heart rate as I observed his movements. Everything about him drew me in and there was nothing I could do about it. I adored and coveted him and somehow I had to manage to get out of my prison – and reach him. Meanwhile, Daniel came with two glasses in his hands and sat down next to me. He handed me my drink and touched his glass to mine with a casual gesture.

"How can I help you?" He leaned back stretching his arm out on the back of the couch. In addition to my accelerated heart rate, isolated spheres became active in my lower abdomen. I tried to ignore them. I quickly began to report what had just taken place at my apartment. Daniel listened with great interest.

"Do have some kind of explanation for these occurrences?" he asked me with a serious look when I finished. I took a swallow of the very mild Scotch that he preferred to drink and I had never touched again since he had been out of my life.

"No, I haven't the slightest idea what's going on. I thought that maybe you could help me understand it. Especially..." I took a deep breath. "...especially since they said the aforementioned phone card had been activated in Manchester."

With interest, I watched as his body jerked forward. His reaction had certain similarities to my own as I had been told this piece of information by the officers.

"Manchester?"

"Yes. Manchester!" I repeated sternly. "And I wonder how my ID could have ended up in this city to be used to activate a cell phone number in my name which was used to have Selassie's driver fired in your name, to then be replaced by an unknown person who hit Selassie – which all absurdly results in the facts of the case implicating me in the crime. Daniel, I don't even have the number of your personnel agency and am now not supposed to leave the city because the investigation has been opened! This is all....too much!"

"That devil!" Daniel cursed and hastily stood up to walk to the large glass door to the garden.

"Do you by chance mean your friend Brian?" I probed, with a certain sharpness in the tone of my voice. Daniel looked at me testily and seemed to be thinking hard. I got up too and joined him at the glass door. Bravely, I stopped just a few centimeters away from him. I couldn't wait to hear what he had to say next.

"Who has access to your ID?" he asked without taking his eyes off the overgrown garden.

"Principally, everyone who enters my house," I replied turning my drink around in my hand.

"Who would that be?"

"Alma of course...Robert, friends..."

"What friends?"

"I...I don't have visitors often. I don't stay at my apartment very often."

Daniel's side-glance hit me like a punch.

"Was anyone in your house you didn't know? A plumber for example? A custodian...or mail carrier?" he continued his questioning.

"No, not that know of and Alma is still as cautious as always and never opens the door for strangers."

"Who has keys?" he also wanted to know.

"Alma."

With a slow movement, Daniel, putting his hand on the doorframe to brace himself, turned and looked down at me with a triumphant look.

"Oh, Robert doesn't have a key?" he slowly asked.

"No," was my short answer.

"I'm glad to hear that."

"That has nothing to do with this!" I replied testily.

"Do you love him actually?" he persisted.

"Daniel, I didn't come here to talk to you about my feelings," I snapped at him impatiently. "I'm much more interested in finding out what the deal is with this telephone card and if there's a connection – because as far as I know, the only sign of life you sent after you disappeared with this...your friend...came from Manchester," I added, hesitantly.

Daniel rolled his eyes and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"He's not my friend. Stop with the insinuations. They are just as out of place here!"

Uncomfortably affected by his words, I remained silent and watched his facial expressions. He seemed to be calculating all of the probabilities in his head.

"I wouldn't put it past Brian at all," he said after a while. "But I don't understand how he came into possession of your ID."

"He lives in Manchester?" I asked.

"Yes. And I was together with him the whole time."

"Except for the last few weeks I presume," I assessed, because he had been back in the city. Daniel didn't answer and instead began to pace back and forth in the room. I leaned against the wall next to the garden door and waited. It took what felt like a quarter of an hour until the sight of his body and its smooth movements simply became too much. Just barely two minutes must have passed before I addressed him:

"Daniel, I'd like for you to tell me what happened now."

His head immediately turned towards me, his eyes scrutinizing me. He stopped moving then came towards me, massively present. My heart began to pound and a wave of heat shot threw me.

"Rosalie..." he began. "You don't understand...I can't talk you about it as long as I have the feeling that I'm your enemy. This story...it's too intimate." His gaze shifted to the floor filled with a sadness that took me down with it. I bit my lower lip and, amazed, I realized that I felt trapped in a certain kind of way. So I tried to take the offensive again.

"The question is though...who is whose enemy here..." I began, but when I saw the hurt in his eyes, I immediately fell silent. Suddenly, I felt silly and my shaking hand nervously stroked my forehead. "Sorry, I'm a little nervous..."

He didn't say anything. I knew he was waiting for a sign from me.

"Well okay..." I began hesitantly. "If you really want to hear it: No, I don't love Robert – of course I don't love him! Are you happy now? Have you made me look like a fool enough yet?" I defiantly added.

Daniel was startled and made a yielding gesture in my direction.

"I didn't want to hurt you," he said softly.

"Yes," I said flatly and nodded. "Yes, I'm sure."

He turned aside and his gaze wandered out into the garden again as if the Nobel Prize were being awarded there. Each of us seemed preoccupied with our own thoughts. All of a sudden, his body made an unexpectedly violent gesture in my direction.

"You're sure?!" he repeated, upset, and firmly grabbed my elbows. "Rosalie, tell me, what's it like... what's it like for _you_ to be without me? How does it feel exactly?"

"Stop it, you bastard!" I cried, frightened, and I tried to free myself from his grip. The look in my eyes telling him he was undesirable pushed him away and, in turn, a contemptuous expression on his face pushed me against the wall at the same time and he turned away. I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder and, horror-stricken, him distancing himself light-years from me.

"Daniel...- no, don't!" I exclaimed, distraught, and hastily took a step forwards. My hand carefully touched his back. Surprised, he turned around and our hostility crumbled apart.

"What else is there I can do in your opinion?" he demanded an answer. My lips were dry and I looked at him, my eyelids burning. I shook my head and let my hand slowly fall back to my side.

"Don't leave me. We...we have to do things differently." I said with a faltering voice and clearly realized that we had never been apart, even if he hadn't been physically present. With a weary gesture, he rubbed his eyes and the expression lines around his eyes painfully contracted.

"I..." he unexpectedly started to explain. "I met Brian in a club in the East End four years ago. I had drunk too much and started talking to him. He was a brilliant conversationalist and a dazzling member of a hedonistic party community. He seemed to be something like its mastermind." He stared off into emptiness and seemed to slip into the past. "I found these people to be very interesting and later in the night we went with them to his house. He used to live in Soho and had rented a property there where the approximately twenty people continued to party. Most of them were part of the art or fashion scene and all of them were eccentric and unconventional, just like Brian was himself. It didn't take long and joints started to be passed around. The more intoxicated I became, the more inspiring I found their company to be. I liked their open views and the wildness surrounding them. Nothing seemed to be able to stop them. They were incredibly 'artsy', a factory full of free-flowing ideas..." His body seemed to mimic his inner reluctance to continue and his gaze seemed to have arrived in the middle of nowhere. "At one point, Brian said that he wanted to show me his picture gallery upstairs in the building and I followed him up to the sparsely remodeled attic. There really was a kind of studio there, full of expressive underground art. It was a very disturbing place..." He paused and I unexpectedly became the target of his scrutinizing eyes. Saying nothing, I gave him a nod. First then, did he continue.

"All of a sudden, I didn't feel very well. I had entered a state that was completely unknown to me. The paintings and sculptures distorted into ugly grimacing faces and I wanted to go back downstairs to call for a taxi to take me home, but that never happened..." Daniel swallowed and it seemed like numerous memories were replaying in his mind's eye. He turned away from me with an unsteady movement and sat down on the wide couch. He picked up his drink and stared into the heavy whiskey glass as if the truth of the world lie at the bottom of it. When I saw him sitting that way, I was moved and swallowed.

"I realized that I couldn't move anymore," he continued. "It wasn't because I was drunk - it was...it was the LSD trip Brian had sent me on by spiking my drink. It paralyzed me stiff. When Brian saw what was going on he...he took great pleasure in performing a kind of experiment. He called it "information sharing" and his words penetrated into my skull the whole night, sending hypnotic information that..." he trailed off. "Sorry, but I don't want to talk about the further details of these hours."

His glass landed with a loud noise on the table and he got up bearing a serious look on his face. Tense, I waited at the garden door and held my empty glass so tight I thought it would break. He had walked to the fireplace, had his back turned to me and was watching the ashes, apparently with great interest.

"To make a long story short: His experiment worked. I didn't notice it right away. I dismissed the incident as an unfortunate experience that I had gotten myself into. However, a few weeks later, Brian suddenly came back into my life again. And something began that never stopped haunting me: Just as soon as we were alone in a room, I had to do what he said. It was one of the suggestions he had planted in my head – and it was a very schizoid experience to experience myself doing things I had no intention of doing. Brian...well, he has a talent for thinking up humiliating things. I hoped it would eventually wear off, but it happened again and again as soon as I was alone with him in a room. I always became paralyzed and Brian degraded me by making me his puppet." He turned and looked at me with a devastated look in his eyes. "He always managed to appear out of nowhere – Frankfurt was one of these occasions. I thought I would be meeting with a young Swedish filmmaker there who wanted to make a documentary about the red light district. He had submitted a very interesting script. But in place of 'Sven Smalström', Brian Levi was waiting for me. In this room, he told me exactly what I should do and I did it. I called you, I slept with you, I..."

He paused and leaned against a chest of drawers opposite me, crossing his arms and scanning me from head to toe. I remained just as motionless as I was stunned and continued to listen to him.

"Under false pretenses and in irregular intervals, he was able to get to me again and again by pretending to be someone else. One time he said he was a U.S. TODAY reporter, other times my golf instructor, a producer or a real estate broker. Each time it hit me like a punch when I showed up to a meeting and Brian was sitting there waiting for me and proved that he still knew how to take control of my life. On the day when I unexpectedly left you and Selassie, he had once again taken the role of 'director' in my life. At that moment, I decided to put an end to the insidious game: and get rid of him forever. To do that, I had to follow him. And that was not an easy decision to make, you can believe me."

I swallowed and my gaze stayed glued to the floor.

"Why didn't you tell me any of this?" I asked and wearily brushed my hair back.

"Before I left with him?" he asked.

"Yes, before you left," I nodded.

"That question is easy to answer: Because otherwise I never would have left.

Moved, I didn't say anything and shied away from looking at him directly.

He paused for a short while before leaving the commode in the direction of the bar.

"It was basically impossible for me to leave you – to separate my life from yours and Selassie's so suddenly. But something in me was sure that this way was the only right way. And the result confirmed my hypothesis. These things are over with now. Forever. But..." he poured himself another drink. "...I hope that the decisions you've made in your life in the meantime turn out to be mistakes."

I watched his movements very closely and felt how troubled I was by all of what I had just heard. Streams of thought raced through my head and came to one inevitable conclusion. I pushed myself off of the glass door's frame and went towards him with hasty footsteps. Just a few centimeters away from him, I stopped. Carefully, I touched his shoulder.

"Would you like another drink?" he asked and picked up a new glass. His gaze left a strange little smile on my face.

"I...I'm sorry. I didn't want to act the way I did," I said and stared into his eyes. They pulled me in. In them I saw all of the facets that I had painfully missed and that would enthrall me forever. They held unspeakable promise. In my body, an earthquake started to take place and suddenly it felt as if I were falling – farther than ever before. Almost simultaneously, I felt his hands that caught me and heard the loud clatter of the glass as it fell back to the bar. Our lips forcefully met, like two stars colliding. Within seconds, the entire galaxy was ablaze. My body turned into a masterpiece of pyrotechnics and our bodies glided down to the thick piled carpet. They melted into each other. Once and for all. We began to love each other with an intensity that was much more than sex or any commonly used term to describe the attraction between two bodies: it was the fatality of unconditional love. The fire between us burned up the past and tore down every wall that had stood between us. With each new sequence, we seemed to make up for the time that we had lost. I buried myself in every corner of his body and breathed in his scent, his sweat and myself. An eternity passed before we let go of each other, just to be captured again by our inherent attraction to one another. We whispered each other's names in a place where time had no meaning and collided again and again until we let go of each other out of exhaustion.

"It will be better than ever before Rosalie," Daniel said as he turned to me on the thick carpet.

"Yes," I answered, breathing just as heavily as my lover. "I know."

My hand lightly touched his shoulder. We had made it.

When I awoke the next morning, I immediately recalled every detail of our time together the previous day: our love, shining brightly like the glass which had rung it in, our drinks at the couch where we had continued to stay, caught up more and more by the magic of our reunion and his wish "to spend the rest of the day here." I knew that he loved Selassie as much as I did, but I understood that these few hours should be ours alone. To be together and restore our love.

"Everything else can wait until tomorrow," he said laughing and I spontaneously kissed his eyelids, light-hearted like a child. These hours should be _different_ than the external reality. And I too wanted to be happy for a short while. I was convinced that no one else could be as happy as we were – as soon as we were together. And we were until late in the night. Our intimacy had finally attained the victory it deserved.

I was almost startled when Daniel suddenly entered the bedroom. He had two cups with him and sat down next to me on the edge of the bed. He handed me mine and smiled at me briefly. I took a swallow and my heart was pounding just as it did during our very first encounter.

"Did you sleep well? Did you dream anything?" he asked serenely.

"Yes," I nodded charmingly. "But the dreaming started yesterday...around noon..."

A broad smile appeared on his face.

"Do you remember our very first morning together?" he wanted to know.

"Yes, every detail."

"Then come along." He reached his hand out towards me and I willingly let him pull me out of the bed. In the bathroom, under the hot stream of water he pulled my hands to his chest.

"Back then, when you touched me in the shower, I was shocked by what was happening between us. I found you too desirable to let myself love you again..."

"And?" I asked, somewhat shyly. "Has something changed since then?"

"Yes..." He leaned towards me. "A lot, as a matter of fact."

His lips caressed my neck and he pressed his body against mine. His hands slid down and began their indescribable kind of game. I sank back, helpless.

"Daniel...it's...- it's too much," I stammered, gasping for air.

"Can you feel how we're coming full circle? Rosalie, we belong together... - and you're much more beautiful than ever before. Luckily, I can handle it now."

"But I can't..." I turned around. Our eyes found each other through the jet of water and my thighs wrapped around him. He picked me up and penetrated into the middle of my being. It was in this moment that I knew he would never leave me alone again and I cried when he came inside me.

"Maybe the hospital..." I said excitedly and both of us rushed to check our phones. I called the number displayed back immediately. To my surprise, it was Scotland Yard on the other end asking us to come to a joint appointment. It delighted me to hear that the hit and run driver had been apprehended and I assured Mr. Brox we would be there right away. Daniel and I skipped breakfast and immediately headed out the door. In the office at Scotland Yard, the familiar faces were waiting for us. Ms. Leplain informed us that the driver, a certain Shawn, had made a statement that he had been approached in a bar at the docks by a stranger who offered him a job: he was to introduce himself as a stand-in driver and transport a small child. He didn't think anything of it and just completed his mission. Since he wasn't accustomed to driving an SUV, he didn't see the child while he was backing up and accidentally hit her. After that he panicked and drove off. He claims he wasn't responsible for calling for help because he knew that Mr. Arnault and his housekeeper were on the premises and would quickly notice the accident."

"That's all?" I asked, distraught.

"Yes." The eyes of the inspector wandered from me to Daniel devoid of emotion.

"The question that remains unanswered is who relieved the original driver from his duties to have the child transported by a stranger and why. We still assume as before that the accident was purposefully contracted. However, Mr. Shawn denies any liability for it."

"Has Ms. Lepore's ID shown up in the meantime?" Daniel prudently inquired.

"No," replied the inspector soberly. "Ms. Lepore hasn't even reported its loss yet."

I shifted around nervously in my chair.

"Then I'll get to that right away. The ID was always kept together with my other documents. I rarely take it with me and that has been the case in the last few weeks as well. It must have been stolen."

"By who?" Ms. Leplain scrunched her eyebrows as she fixed her penetrating gaze on me.

"If I knew that, we would all be further along with this by now..." I raised my arms up indicating my helplessness and shook my head. The inspector and her assistant then urged me to disclose all details of my private life in recent months.

"So, only your housekeeper and partner had regular access to your apartment?"

"Yes, especially my housekeeper," I added defiantly.

"Listen..." Daniel intervened in the interrogation. "Ms. Fernandez has worked for us ever since Selassie has been here. She doesn't have a criminal bone in her body. She's a nanny. Through and through."

"Money?" Mr. Brox put forward and raised his eyebrows inquisitively.

"Unthinkable. I would vouch for her any day and, besides that, she's very well paid!" insisted Daniel and sat up straight. "There is however a parallel to Manchester you should know about."

Both inspectors' ears perked up when Daniel diverted the focus of suspicion onto Brian. Cleverly, he began to present the facts in a way that didn't shed bad light on him.

"I would ask you to please immediately check up on Mr. Brian Levi. He could be the contractor for such a scenario."

"The motive?" Ms. Leplain asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Hunger for revenge."

"What did you do to him?"

"I broke up with him."

An awkward silence immediately filled the room.

"I see," Mr. Brox finally said. "We will follow up on your tip."

"What about Robert?" I blurted out.

"We're checking into all relevant suspects, Ms. Lepore. May I ask you to take part in a line-up now? We have asked Mr. Shawn to identify the person who gave him the job at the docks..."

I gulped and nodded. The thought of seeing the person again who had left my daughter in such a desolate condition frightened me. Daniel immediately recognized what was going on inside me and nodded at me encouragingly. The man didn't identify any of us. Nevertheless, in the eyes of the inspectors I saw that this by no means meant that we were off the hook yet.

"You could have an accomplice," Daniel concluded as we were driving to the hospital. I winced, but nodded calmly.

"They are unimpressionable criminologists," I said.

"And that's good," he said, convinced. I understood how he meant it and was grateful to him for giving me a new perspective.

"I'm going to find a lawyer tomorrow anyway. The thought that you are suspected of being behind this deceptive ploy sickens me." He stopped the car at the parking lot of the private hospital Selassie had been transported to. When we got out, we were taken by surprise by a horde of paparazzi whose cameras flashed at us from all directions.

"Where the hell did they come from?" cursed Daniel and quickened his pace.

"Someone must have tipped them off," I suspected and stumbled after him hastily. After a short excursion, we found ourselves at Selassie's bedside again. It was horrible to stand there and not be able to do anything.

"I want her to be with us," Daniel said, dissatisfied. "A hospital is still a hospital, and that is not what she needs. I want to always be able to see her and not have to drive somewhere to stand helplessly at a strange bed. Especially the way things have went today..."

"Yes..." I agreed. "That would certainly be a good solution for all of us."

He stared at Selassie who was lying there motionlessly and took my hand, kissing my palm. Then he pulled out his phone and went to the door.

"I'll have it arranged. Right away."

Daniel hated being helpless and he hated waiting. So everything was taken care of quite quickly. On the very same evening a male nurse came by for an interview. He left a competent impression and we had him arrange for all of the equipment he would need. It was to take several days, because it seemed to me as if he needed half of a hospital. I avoided thinking about in too much detail – such thoughts pained my heart too much.

Surprisingly, I hadn't heard anything from Robert and in a way had already forgotten him. Under the new circumstances, the time I spent with him now seemed as surreal as a lucid dream. I couldn't explain to myself how I had ended up with him in the first place, how I had brought myself to sleep with him and was able to bear the absence of love and passion. My life of the past months had been suddenly erased and replaced by a new happier one – aside from Selassie's condition. But I wanted to be optimistic – not give way to my inner fears. On a short trip to my apartment, Daniel watched me while I was changing clothes. I, in turn, was studying my wardrobe and couldn't decide whether to wear the little black dress or the colorful silk one on our visit to the Japanese.

"I find it extraordinarily appealing to be able to watch you dress and undress almost every day, but do we really always have to drive for miles through the city to do so?" I heard his voice ask from behind me. In the mirrored closet door, I gave him an amused look. He was lying on the bed, propped up by his elbows and gave me a faint smile.

"You only thing you still want to help me with is undressing?" I asked, curious.

"That's an excellent thought too. Come here..." he said, in a relaxed manner. I turned around and his hand pulled me down onto the bedspread. With a gentle gesture, he ran his fingers through my hair. His eyes wandered over my face until his pupils with their accentuated orange stayed fixed on mine.

"Rosalie, listen to me: I'd like you to pack your bags and bring them back to our house. All of them. With everything that you need. Right now."

I looked up, confused, and laughed nervously.

"You mean that I should move this evening? I thought we wanted to go out..." I said with a questioning look. He leaned over me and rested his hand on my arm. He increased pressure on my muscles as he continued.

"I don't like the fact that nothing of yours is there when you're gone. I like your apartment here. It reflects a lot about you. As far as I'm concerned, you can keep it, sublet it, buy it, leave it...- it's all the same to me. But I don't want to drive here everyday, because it reminds me that we were separated. And I hate these thoughts."

"Daniel..." I responded cautiously. "Wouldn't that be a little too fast?"

"Do you seriously mean that?"

I detected that something in his eyes had begun to vibrate slightly and I stroked his forehead tenderly.

"No," I answered after thinking for a moment and smiled cheerfully. "No, the truth is that I don't think that at all..."

Slowly his very special smile formed and enchanted me. I looked at his side row of teeth because they always managed to captivate me anew.

"Tell me how it feels now..." He let go of me. I looked into his eyes for a while. With slow movements, I moved towards him. Just as my lips were about to touch his ear, I whispered:

"I think that everything in life is fleeting and I don't think there's anything this doesn't apply to except for one single constant: the fact that this is love."

"As always, you know how to get to the heart of the matter," his lips caressed my neck. After staying there for a short while, he turned my head towards him and tenderly kissed me. In ripples, the spheres in my abdomen began to stir. My hands moved forward to explore his body. Quite unexpectedly, touching him ignited an urgent desire within me. Driven, my hand reached for his and guided it over my skin. He followed all of the movements I dictated to him with great indulgence. All of a sudden, I felt powerful and helpless at the same time.

"Touch me..." I whispered and pushed myself against him. "Tell me what you want to do to me..."

"Whatever you desire..." he replied, pressing me down onto the bed. And what I wanted felt good – too good. When my body suddenly convulsed in ecstasy, I pushed him away with a violent motion. Numb, I waited until my breathing settled down. His fingertips moved patiently in small circles on my shoulder.

"As far as I can tell, you're in quite a hurry..." he said with an indulgent smile.

"Yes, apparently," I replied and smiled back shyly.

"Rosalie you're an amazing woman. I want you to stay with me – forever."

"Anything you want..." I sighed dreamily.

"Great!" he exclaimed and jokingly looked around in the room. "But where are your damned suitcases?"

I had to laugh and let myself be picked up by him. I could tell that he was actually being serious about what he said when he didn't let up until I had got out my largest suitcase.

"That's a good start. Don't you think?" he said as he handed me clothes from my closet.

"We begin anew? Over and over? I asked back, listening intently.

"Yes, Rosalie, we'll begin anew again and again. And do so hopefully as long as you and I are still breathing."

I gulped and was impressed by his words.

"Yes, you're right..." I replied. "One always has to start from the beginning again, anything else would mean death."

"Or the death of love..."

I stopped in my tracks. His words reminded me of all the deaths I had died when we were separated – and my futile attempts at resuscitation with an empty relationship with Robert.

"Oh, that's a pretty dress," he interrupted my train of thought. "I haven't seen it before. Wear it tonight. You'll look like a queen in it."

I looked up. He was holding a floor-length dress with a floral pattern in his hands. I had bought it shortly before he had left and never wore it. I had almost thrown it away because it reminded of the event that I had bought it for: the 80th birthday of a director he held in high esteem. It was on the calendar back then and we never made it there.

"This is more of a dress for a party," I remarked.

"There is at least one reason to celebrate, don't you think? Put it on. You will look very beautiful in it."

"You want me to give you a run for your money?" I joked nonchalantly.

"Yes. Anytime. I handle it well," in the depths of his orange, a serious expression fixed itself on me. I smiled shyly, took the dress and put it on. And Daniel was not to be proved wrong on this evening. After dinner, we went to the exquisite Milk & Honey Bar in Soho where, due to its strict policies concerning who was granted entry, one could find a certain level of privacy. However, all eyes were on me here too, but above all Daniel's. He made me a very happy woman. His woman. And he didn't leave any doubt that our love was stronger than all of the adversities we had encountered and would encounter...

The next morning, photos appeared in the tabloids in which Daniel and I could be seen entering the hospital. Daniel, who continually avoided the press, as always, reacted surprised:

"The paparazzi didn't coincidentally show up there," he concluded and drank the last swallow of his coffee. He was right. There were almost no photos in which we appeared together. Due to my modest fame as a children's book author, I managed to make it into the headline this time:

'Daniel Arnault and Rosalie Lepore subpoenaed for attempted manslaughter of their own daughter!'

This headline changed everything. From then on, our house was besieged and we were puzzled as to how the reporters had caught wind of the events. At the same time, I learned that Robert had depicted me as a desperate woman obsessively driven by cravings for revenge and that I only had one thing in mind: to get back at Daniel. I was stunned and denied his statements. In parallel, my publisher contacted me wanting to know what was going on and announced that the production of the children's tableware would be put on hold until further notice to monitor further developments.

"Surely you will understand that we have to await the outcome of the investigation because the production costs are too high to take any risk. We are acting in your interest, Ms. Lepore..."

It was a bit too much for one day. I became discouraged and was worried about my newly tarnished career. Daniel didn't waste time and met with a lawyer who began to familiarize himself with the situation. It was all very emotionally exhausting; especially since Selassie couldn't be moved for another two weeks and her condition had not improved. Our comings and goings in public were like a running of the gauntlet each time, which gave little cause for joy. In the evening, Daniel and I were both trying to figure out who had reason to spin such an intrigue. In a small bar in Mayfair, Daniel once again suggested Brian as a guilty party.

"Brian! Brian! Brian!" I exclaimed. "He can't know everything and be everywhere. How does he know when we're leaving a police building – or is he going to the trouble of following us? Sitting in his car and waiting, then calling the Paparazzi and taking pleasure in watching us run for it? What's the sense in that?" I grumbled impatiently, tired of the puzzle pieces that didn't want to fit together.

"Well, Brian generally doesn't do anything that bores him, that's certainly correct. Sitting for hours on end in a car would be dismissed by him as a 'job for poor people'. His undertakings must be more colorful and insidious. It has to be an intelligent game. He is a graduate of the British drama school. Anything dull wouldn't suit him at all."

I nodded, since I had gotten the same impression from my short encounters with him. In a bad mood, I stared into the glass in front of me and was unhappy that no progress was being made.

"Have you actually ever talked to Robert again?" Daniel asked.

"No, never again. Why do you ask?"

"Because, I find the statement he made very surprising. He painted a completely different picture of you for the police. I wonder why."

"You don't believe him, do you?" I somewhat cynically asked. Daniel's face displayed a quick smile. His teeth flashed and I noticed how very much in love with him I was. Restless, I turned back and forth a little on the orange colored bar stool I was sitting on and looking at the label of an absinthe brandy on a shelf as I continued.

"I assume that he feels offended and could be jealous because he can imagine what happened. It wasn't exactly nice of me never to say anything to him again..."

"Did he love you?" Daniel's question was short and without personal interest. I bit my lower lip and thought about it. I was sure of the answer I gave him.

"No," we both fell silent for a moment and I stirred around in my martini. My eyes followed the professional movements of the bartender before I continued to reflect. "Our relationship had little to do with love in a classical sense. I believe that Robert felt the same way. As for me, I needed him to bring order into my life and he was the only one who saw to my needs right from the very beginning. I have no idea why he did it. I fear he just wanted to collect me just like he had done with all his other trophies. Material ones, I mean."

Daniel's eyes showed interest.

"That sounds very businesslike and unemotional."

"That's the way it was too," I stated and drank my drink all in one go.

"It seems like you don't want to talk about the issue any further."

"Why should I want to?" I looked at him questioningly.

"Because Robert can't stand losing. And because it was clear that we would get back together when I came back."

I blinked nervously.

"Why was that clear?"

"Because, otherwise you would have been able to face me."

I froze for a few seconds. As the barkeeper placed my new drink in front me with absolute perfection, I shook my head in amusement and looked in Daniel's eyes.

"Okay, okay – you're right," I capitulated. Daniel turned to me with an enigmatic smile and pressed his lips for a brief second to mine. Butterflies thronged to the surface and fluttered freely in the narrow space.

"I love that you love the truth just as much as I do," I heard him say.

"Not only you and not only the truth..." I answered decisively and pushed him back on to his bar stool. He followed my movements and I ordered him a new vodka. His words gave me cause to think. My mind was kept busy for a long time contemplating the illusion of trophies, the realities in which people lived and the prisons to which they confined themselves. All things considered, Robert didn't exactly come off looking very good, but I, unlike Daniel, refused to believe he could have something to do with recent events.

"Robert's not capable of that", I argued.

"Yes he is. He's just different than we are," Daniel countered. Interested, I looked up, but Daniel didn't elaborate and turned to pay.

That night, Daniel and I made love to one another like never before and never again. When he came, I knew that we had become as one. Our egos dissolved – somewhere in the universe, allowing for the creation of something much more important. But these were just impressions and emotions which came and went like ghosts in the night, leaving nothing behind but a little fog the next morning.

On this sunny late summer afternoon in August, Daniel had an appointment in his office.

"A while ago, I received a script that I thought was really good. Especially the main role..."

"Oh, you in front of the camera again? That will look very good for sure," I joked. "What's it about?"

"About the last seven hours in the life of a man who commits suicide in the evening. The scenes of the previous day are shot from different perspectives. I've sent it to two producers and also would like to co-produce it myself. I want the company to grow. The film will be bigger than any of the previous ones. I want it to be played at Cannes."

"Then hurry up, dear," I said cheerfully and gave him a quick kiss. I found the basic idea of the script brilliant and also liked the idea that he would be back in front of the camera himself. I had never seen him acting and was excited to see what it would be like. In addition to that, I have to admit that I'm more interested in a big production than short films.

Meanwhile, I wanted to take care of Selassie, play her a few songs that she really liked, comb her hair and bring her new clothes. As I was getting dressed and was just struggling with the zipper on my dress, my cell phone rang.

"Damn it!" I cursed. I fumbled with the zipper which wouldn't move at all and I clambered for my phone, answering it without looking at the display.

"Yes?!"

"Rosalie, how wonderful that I was able to get a hold of you!" I heard Robert's voice and was shocked.

"Oh...Robert! Hello...how are you?" I replied, surprised.

"Great, excellent," his abysmal voice resounded in my ear. "And what about you?"

I removed my unwearable dress.

"For me, things are going well. You should know..."

"I've been able to come up with a lot of answers on my own," he stated with a certain bitterness.

"Yes, it seems that way to me too. Especially, regarding the statement you gave Scotland Yard," I got straight to the point. Everything else was just a waste of time.

"I can explain it to you, Rosalie. And much more..." His voice sounded cynical.

"I'm listening..."

"Over the phone? What happened to your sense of style?" He sounded peeved. My eyes rolled up to the ceiling and back.

"Stop this nonsense. What do you want?"

"Vista Bar, Trafalgar Hotel. Four o' clock. You and me. One last time."

I looked at my cell phone, irritated, and repeated in a monotone voice:

"Vista in Trafalgar? Today?"

"Yes, today. They have an extraordinary roof-top terrace. The view will be fantastic."

"Very well. Then see you at four, okay?"

"Yes. I'm looking forward to our reunion, Rosalie."

Confused, I hung up and looked at my watch. It was already half past one. Just enough time to still visit my girl. I quickly changed clothes and drove off. Even though it sickened my heart every time I saw Selassie lying there unconscious, I always tried to accentuate the positive aspects as soon as I was together with her. She was in the best of hands, she was alive, her pupil movements had normalized and in the morning her hand had responded to the nurse's holding it. When I was told the news after my arrival at the expensive private hospital, I almost hugged the nurse. I praised their excellent work which employed a lot of physical contact, meridian massage, stimulation of reflex points and special music that was accompanied by the sound of flowing water and birds singing. Theoretically, my daughter could come to any moment and, above all, she needed: affection, affection and more affection. I hated that it would still take so long until she was at our house because I would do everything to bring her back into our world. I would copy the hospital's technique – in every detail. After about an hour at her bedside, I promised my daughter that I would come back with daddy in the evening for a short visit. When I gave her a kiss goodbye on her forehead, I thought I felt her twitch. I left the room caught-up in a strange state which implied that I didn't have to anticipate her recovery anymore. I felt that new life was flowing into her. And I knew I would be proven right.

In a hurry, I ran to my car and for a second considered calling Daniel, but then dismissed the idea. I didn't want to disturb him. Rush hour was approaching and I liked the idea of surprising him myself in the evening with the encouraging news – and maybe there would be more, since I was intent on finding out what had motivated Robert to give the police such an exaggerated statement. I started my car in a very optimistic mood. Shortly after four o'clock, I stepped out of the elevator and found Robert right away, who was sitting on a white sofa opposite me, brooding. He seemed to me to have lost quite a bit of weight and didn't look at all like himself. Unsettled, I reacted in compliance with social niceties.

"Oh, have I kept you waiting?" I asked innocently.

"No." He got up and, with an unknown glint in his eyes, took my arm to lead me to the terrace. There we were given an extraordinary table directly next to the ornate fence and offering an unobstructed view of the square. Robert had inappropriately slipped the waiter a fifty dollar bill before he asked for the best table and I wondered to myself why he was using a different currency. We took our seats.

"Well..." I began my sentence, not sure about how to finish it.

"Yes...well,well, Rosalie. I'm glad that you're doing well. You look magnificent. Such a level of magnificence that I only know of you possessing after you've had intensive contact with Daniel."

I cleared my throat nervously.

"Such details aren't up for discussion here as far as I know, or am I wrong?"

Robert's lips formed a subtle smile.

"Yes, Rosalie, what's life about, what do you think?"

The waiter came at the same moment and handed us menus.

"They have a wonderful cuisine here," Robert mentioned in passing and didn't seem to expect an answer. I searched through the menu finding guinea chick soufflé with ginger sauce on a corn puree and other culinary eccentricities.

"What do you think of the menu? Frozen sorbet would be a fitting end to our conversation," he insisted.

"I don't think I have a big enough appetite for a dessert."

His smile was bitter as he replied:

"Nevertheless, you won't be able to miss it."

I didn't really know what to make of his comment and closed the menu. The waiter came to the table and took our orders.

"Why did you call me?" I bluntly asked, as soon as the waiter had left.

"Because the game is over...and I have my freedom back. All of it!" His nebulous remarks tired me. I looked at him expressionlessly as he leaned back gazing at me with a cutting smile. It was as if we had never had anything to do with each other.

"You know, Rosalie, you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, but unfortunately also the most honest and naive..."

"How so?" I probed and felt a little guilty for having broken off contact so abruptly with him. He, on the other hand, didn't address my question.

"...and you were the most loaded female catch that I ever pulled ashore. And my idiot self couldn't even get a single penny out of you." He laughed out loud and picked up his champagne glass. I furrowed my brow.

"What are you talking about?"

"What do you think, Rosalie? How much do you think it costs to get your foot in the door at the law office of Goldfrey and Meyer?"

I shrugged and also helped myself to the champagne that Robert had ordered with a grand gesture.

"I thought they had chosen you as the best out of the numerous candidates."

His laugh became uncomfortably loud. Other guests entered the until then still empty terrace and his lack of manners embarrassed me. Especially since I didn't understand it.

"Your sincerity, your naivety! I have to admit, they enhance your appeal a great deal. Rosalie..." Robert leaned back with another grand gesture. "...at Goldfrey and Meyer you have to buy your way in! And I didn't have the money, but I had the game. And these two Jews up on the thirtieth floor are players. Nothing more than laughable players and the whole time I knew how to play them – just as I did all of you."

Alarmed, I listened intently and leaned forward to put down my glass.

"What kind of game are we talking about here? I asked, crossing my arms demonstratively.

"The great, almighty vacuum of a stock market!" He loosened the knot in his tie and a nerve below his eye began to twitch. "And I filled it with life for my clients...with hot air...lots of it – too much. They breathed down my neck. I paid out yields to them they could only dream of. I was an excellent player because I had good instincts," he looked up, full of hatred. "...until I met you! From then on everything went to hell and Rosalie you can believe me: I hate you dearly for it! If I were superstitious I would have burned you at the stake like a wretched witch."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, surprised.

"What are you talking about?!" he cynically mocked me and picked up his glass to down his champagne all at once. Without waiting to be served, he poured himself another one. I gained the impression that he had already consumed a few drinks before coming to our appointment. He, the one who had always paid attention to social conventions, seemed in a way to be out of control.

"I was the king of the scene. No one seemed to care why my returns were always so utopically high: as long as they kept carrying home money by the sack-load. My name got around and I kept getting more and more new clients. They voluntarily gave me their money! And I gave it to the ones who had already taken part in the game before them. Everyone was happy. My job as a lawyer became comparable to one at a fast-food joint. Who feels like working for peanuts?"

I stared at him. Which I had been doing continuously the whole time.

"I see you have no words... - me too! Rest assured, they are to be my last!" He took a deep breath and looked contemptuously at the skyline as if it was solely responsible for his fate.

"To make it short: the share prices unsuspectingly hit rock bottom. There was nothing I could do and there wasn't enough to pay back all of the involved parties. It had taken on a life of its own and I began to employ the usual delaying tactics, which really did work at first because I was known as a reliable supplier of freshly printed money. But all of a sudden, I didn't have enough of it. I realized that I needed a new source of capital – a huge one. Only then could I pay out returns to everyone again and receive new money from my business partners again. It also became clear to me that I needed your goddamn fortune of millions, which didn't even belong to you and you so carefully guarded – for your lover! I never would have suspected that you were so morally impeccable and let me tell you something else: you nearly blew me away with your steadfastness. And I was disappointed in myself for being together with such a saint who was waiting for her dear loved one. It was just like in a fairy tale...so old-fashioned and proper! Do you think I didn't notice that you still loved Daniel? You used me and at the same time didn't allow yourself to be used. How shabby of you! And in the crucial moment where my ever so subtle extortion plot was about to reach fruition and I had finally won you over, Arnault came back. Daniel Arnault came back! I couldn't believe it."

Startled, I jumped when the waiters suddenly appeared with our food. They danced elegantly around our table and I expected to awake from the bad dream any moment.

"You?! You're behind this?" I asked, stunned.

"Who else, my love? I'm an expert! It was child's play to get Brian on my side. When I told him that he had to take revenge and I would gladly help him do it, I had him hook, line and sinker. He's a wily little minx. I promised him half of the money – and the glory! The latter he like the most. Of course, he never would have seen a single penny..."

Robert pulled out his cutlery and looked at the stylishly served lobster. He then began to dismantle it.

"Well, to keep it short: when Daniel stormed into my office, there was no doubt anymore that he wanted to have you back. And you made yourself so unapproachable by him and this idiot still didn't take your access to his account away! Everything went on as before and I brooded over how I could finally bring you to hate him. So I took your ID, Brian activated the phone and the hired driver hit Selassie. I was sure that you wouldn't forgive even Daniel of such negligence, but I was wrong again."

Robert guided the fork to his mouth and it tasted very good to him.

"Delicious! You're not hungry? I should have recommended you the lobster here..."

I was mortified, yet my heart rate remained surprisingly calm, while I sat at the table as if frozen stiff.

"You did...what?!"

I began to hyperventilate.

"Yes, I did. How is the little one?"

"Robert..." I literally swallowed my own words. "You can't be serious!"

"What else should it be? The fairy tale you're living in? The books that you write? Yes, I did it my love. I always tampered with the rumor mill directly. And would you like to know something? I thoroughly enjoyed it. Your gullibility towards me served me well until the very end!" He laughed perfidiously. "Of course a private detective would have been able to track Daniel Arnault...if one had ever been hired, which, I'm afraid to say, I never got around to somehow. So as you see, I respected your wishes – which were, of course, Daniel's wishes," he added, with certain bitterness.

I laid my napkin down on the full plate and sat up straight. I was tempted to throw something at my counterpart – some object. Anything that would free me from the sight of him. Robert looked at me with hostility.

"Come on Rosalie, don't cause a scene here. You surely want to know how the story continues..."

He downed the contents of his glass again and stared at me with a mad glint in his eyes. I closed my eyes and tried to breathe evenly as he continued.

"Consider the great honor you have in receiving my confession here. This Leplain, by the way, takes the cake. No style. An iceberg. The downfall of the Titanic! At this very moment she's expecting me to appear for a line-up with this lowlife I found in the East End who was ruthless enough to hurt a child for a few measly pounds. He was a real stroke of luck."

He poured himself another glass and smiled in amusement, before he continued to eat with a keen appetite. I became nauseous when I saw how he stylishly dabbed his lips with the napkin and resentfully added:

"I don't have to tell you... -places like the East End have their...dirty corners."

"Robert you're sick," I replied slowly but firmly and noticed how I was shaking all over. "You tried to kill my child to get at my money! You have..."

"No!" he interrupted me, peeved. "That's not correct. I just arranged for a little accident. I instructed him to do it in such a manner that no one got killed!"

He looked at me, interested in my reaction. The air in front of my eyes seemed to shimmer, that's how unbelievable his presence was, along with his madness.

"Pour me another one, my love!" he demanded cheerfully. I shook my head slowly and my eyes followed his jerky movements as he poured himself a new glass. Thoughts raced in my brain. What had he done? What would he do next? What was the purpose of this confession? I came to the conclusion that there was no purpose and decided to react in a calm and collected manner and try to persuade him to turn himself in.

"This hoodlum is going give me up when he sees me. They've worked on him too much. It wouldn't be all that bad, but countless others are waiting for their next pay out from me. Rosalie..."

He dipped his hands in a bowl of lemon water and dried them off on the provided towel.

"Goldfrey and Meyer terminated my contract with their law office today. I'm through. And there is only one kind of defeat in my life: to have to live in poverty. I didn't come to London, didn't put in all the effort finishing my miserable studies – just to end up at the docks..."

He straightened his tie pin and stood up. His eyes brightened as they beheld the impressive backdrop.

"I love this place. It's the financial capital of the world. And since I didn't love anything except money, there's no way that I will tolerate this defeat. Most of all, because I idiotically developed romantic feelings for you in a way. Maybe it was because you evoked feelings reminding me of our homeland. Completely nonsensical and illusory! But that's over now – like everything! Give me my glass!"

I shook my head, paralyzed, and watched as he got it himself, enraged and now clearly drunk. He then leaned on the fence, self-absorbed.

"Robert..."

"Shut your mouth, woman. You're getting on my nerves."

"He looked at me aggressively, placing his foot on the short wall the fence was anchored in.

"I'm not sure why you cause me to have such genuine feelings. It's time to leave it all behind. Time to find another sweet illusion."

"Sweet illusion? Robert, I'm going to call the police. To be exact, right now."

"You don't need to do that; they'll be here soon enough. Save your pennies..."

He laughed bitterly and climbed the low wall. Horrified, I watched as he unsteadily climbed over the fence. Champagne swashed out of his glass onto his hand and reflected the sunshine.

"Robert! Stop this stupid game." I shouted and jumped up nervously.

His face contorted.

"As always, you haven't understood a single thing. I love the game. It is my life."

I heard voices in the background and looked around. The only other guests had also gotten up and were watching the grim spectacle in horror. Carefully, I reached out with my hand and shook my head.

"Don't touch me. You never did it before, no need to start now!" he wildly shouted. His gaze focused in on my eyes which were looking at him, frozen. I stopped.

"Robert, come down from there!"

He took in a deep breath, relishing it, gave me a wry smile and took a swallow from his glass.

"Robert, you've drunk too much," I insisted.

"Oh, I'm sorry about that." He let the glass plunge into the depths and watched it. My own heartbeat pounded in my ears.

"Robert, come on – come on now..."

"Where to?" he scornfully asked. His gaze seemed to pierce right through me, before he turned, ran to the ledge – and jumped.

Connect with Audrey Glanville

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