Picking up her laptop, she dived back into her screenplay. Since helping Hugo with his script, she had felt a new sense of excitement about her story; a passion for the characters she was forming in her mind. Her lead, Frankie, was a modern-day Kat Stratford from 10 Things I Hate About You, mixed with Elle Woods and sprinkled with who Evie had always wanted to be. What had started out as a strict romantic comedy in her short had morphed into so much more in her feature-length film. She had decided to change the setting back to Melbourne, and was relishing being immersed in the café, bar and literature scene of her hometown. She was midway through describing one of her favourite cafes—which served a bright purple beetroot latte—when she heard a rap at the front door.

She frowned, running through her mental calendar. She’d been feeling so terrible she’d cancelled a catch-up with Ben—which had led to him bringing around the soup. At the front door, she peeped through the spyhole.

And her heart skipped a beat.

She fell back against the door, out of eyeshot, as if the person on the other side of the door could see her through the lens. What is she doing here?

There was another knock on the door.

‘I know you’re home,’ a slightly desperate voice called out.

How does she know somebody’s home?

‘I can see the shadow of your feet.’

How did she know I just thought that? This is worse than I feared!

‘Please, I just want to talk.’

Evie turned to face the door, adjusted her sweatpants, and slowly turned the handle.

And there, standing on her stoop, was the blonde woman from the other day. The woman with terrible spatial awareness, who had kept bumping into her. Evie stared at her, confused.

‘Hi. I’m Chloe,’ the woman said, her voice light and airy.

Evie took in the ice-blonde hair that blended in with her pale, porcelain skin; her glassy blue eyes and muted pink lips. Wearing a loose white linen dress to match her complexion, she looked beautiful and otherworldly. She was the sort of woman that you didn’t just date, but became utterly infatuated with.

‘Fiona’s assistant?’

‘What? No. Evie, I’ll cut to the chase.’

How does she know my name?

‘There’s something I need to talk to you about. I’ve tried to speak to Hugo directly, but I can’t get through to him. Can I come in?’

Evie’s heart was suddenly racing. This was Chloe. The woman Evie had heard Hugo speaking to on the phone. The woman she had known deep down she should be worried about. She had avoided listening to her gut so she could remain ignorantly blissful.

Evie took in a deep breath. ‘Just tell me. Are you having an affair with him?’