Page 100 of Behind Frenemy Lines

“Yeah, because he was so standoffish!”

Zuri held out her hand. “Show me the message.”

I passed her my phone. What did I have to lose? It wasn’t like I had any dignity left with Zuri.

Having reviewed the exchange, she said, “OK. I can see your dilemma. But look at it this way. You left the firm because your boss hit on you—”

“And because we were advising the guy who embezzled billions from our country.”

“Yeah, OK, that too. But maybe Kawan Baik doesn’t want topressure you, you know?” said Zuri. “I mean, if you’re a decent guy, that’s what you’re going to be thinking. ‘Kriya’s dealing with a lot, I don’t want to kacau her.’ How much encouragement have you given him?”

“I let him stay in my flat for three nights,” I protested.

But it was true Charles had taken his lead from me, throughout the time we’d known each other. And I’d left matters with him on an ambiguous note, the last time we saw each other. It had been, I realised, the one time he’d asked for more.

I’d been preoccupied and distracted that night, but maybe I had been a little afraid, too. My life was breaking open. I was getting more than I’d ever dreamt was possible for me. It didn’t seem reasonable to want Charles, too, much less get to keep him.

“If you want to hear from him, give him an opening lah,” said Zuri. “Give him the chance to put his case.”

She stayed with me while I checked in my bags at Heathrow, walking me to Departures. We hugged. I scanned my boarding pass, waved at Zuri, then turned and went through to security.

It took a while to get through security—the downside of travelling on a Sunday during the school summer holidays. I was stuck behind dozens of people who seemed never to have been to an airport before. But finally I was disgorged at the other end, only slightly ruffled by the experience.

I followed the signs through the maze of duty-free shopping, alone among the crowd. I’d always enjoyed travelling by myself—that sensation of being neither here nor there, temporarily cut off from everyday reality. I bought myself a snack, admired the bags in the Mulberry storefront—should have indulged while I was still being paid a salary—then sat down to watch the departure board.

I bit into my cookie and realised I was thinking about Charles. The way he frowned when he was concentrating. His gentleness, the smell of him, and his hands.

I didn’t believe in soulmates. There would be other people, probably, if it wasn’t Charles.

But I wanted it to be him. Maybe that was reason enough to reach out. To open the door, even if it would be safer and less complicated to keep it shut.

I took my phone out of my bag and snapped a photo of the cookie, with the bite taken out of it. The black screen of the departure board could be seen in the background, out of focus.

Not quite as good as the SW meeting room cookies

The double blue tick appeared almost instantly. I could see Charles was typing.

You’re flying to Hong Kong today?

Yes. Can you remind me what the roast goose restaurant you recommended was called?

Yat Lok.

Thanks. Hoping I manage to get there this time around.

When’s the interview with Sanson?

I told him. I hesitated, then typed:

I’m going on to Malaysia after. Not sure when I’ll be back in the UK, but maybe we could grab a coffee then?

It took a little longer for Charles to respond, this time around. I put my phone down and looked around the departure lounge as though there was anything to see that interested me more than what was happening on my phone.

The phone buzzed. I grabbed it.

Sounds like you’ll be busy. Good luck. Have a safe journey.

“Seriously?” I said aloud.

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