So, she ran after his red T-shirt through the forest. His was not a well-beaten trail, clear of trees and rocks. Instead there were branches sticking out to jab at her side, there were stones that threatened to twist her ankle and trip her. But she must not lose sight of him. It was him, for sure. After coming all this way for her sake, he was playing hard to get. He wanted her to be the one chasing him. He wanted her to say sorry. She was sorry, and she was happy too that he had come. No, not happy, but so excited that she couldn’t think straight, couldn’t figure out where she was heading. She called out his name, but he didn’t slow down. She could not see him clearly, not as clearly as she wanted to. The distance between them should narrow, but it didn’t. The forest was larger than she would have thought. Here were the first leaves of autumn, leaves as bright as tangerines. She crossed other trails, red, green and purple. Those she had earlier disregarded as too easy or too difficult for the three of them to attempt. The blue trail was far behind her. So was the cottage and the monastery. She was getting out of breath, which meant she must have run for a long time, covered a good distance. She jogged every day; she was fit and had told him so. And he played tennis, he didn’t jog. So surely this chase could not go on for ever.

The trees were thinning around her. This would be the edge of the forest, now, closer to the village. She found herself facing a house or at least a building. A period house that looked like it was no longer a home, one of those places too expensive to maintain, part of an estate which perhaps had also, in the past, included the forest or at least some of it. All of this was conjecture. There was no sign or information. A wooden gate had been left open. It was evidence that Amir had passed through here, that he had entered the building ahead of her.

She closed the gate behind her and ran the last few steps to the entrance. Up close, the building was imposing and unwelcoming. It was the grey exterior and official look that made it like that. But if he was inside, she would find him. It was already too late to turn back, to retrace her steps. Iman didn’t want her. And if Amir did, enough to travel all the way, enough to put his life on pause, enough to take such a risk, then he had earned her. She owed him. Why else had she given him her address? And here she was doing the chasing, running and running, calling out and pushing open doors to ruffle up the past and dig her way deep into it.