Before I know it, I’ve moved my life back to my apartment. My return to work approaches fast. I don’t know how over a week has passed since I returned from Australia, which already feels like a lifetime ago. I don’t know how I managed to survive each day, waiting for word from Hugh. With every hour that passes, my heart feels like it breaks a little more. I keep thinking the pain will lessen, but somehow my disappointment only deepens. I start to feel foolish. I don’t know why I ever thought someone like him would be interested in someone like me.

I retreat further into myself. At first, everyone thinks that I have the post-trip blues. My parents suggest I plan another vacation, but Millie realises quickly that there’s more to it.

‘This is about the guy, isn’t it?’ she asks after coming to my apartment for the third day in a row to find me in the same pair of sweats. She’s asked me about him over and over again, but even thinking about talking about him makes me want to cry, so I’ve shut her down each time.

All I can do is shake my head.

I think about Hugh constantly. Every time I drink coffee in the morning, I can hear his voice teasing, ‘You’re poisoning yourself with caffeine.’ I find myself compulsively checking to see what time it is in Australia. I pull up the Boston conference schedule and check over and over again that he’s still committed to present. I tell Murphy about him. I cry. I repeat the cycle.

Eventually, I’m ready to tell Millie. She comes over with takeout Chinese food and we sit on my couch, Murphy between us. Millie listens, open-mouthed, the entire time. Only when I’m finished does she interject.

‘Wow,’ she says when I finish. ‘Who would have thought . . .’

‘Millie,’ I feel a nervous heat rise in my cheeks, worried she’ll criticise him. ‘You don’t know him.’

‘I know he’s my work enemy!’ she cries playfully.

I relax. ‘I know,’ I groan.

‘I can’t believe this! Where’s my loyalty?’

I hide behind a carton of fried rice.

‘How serious is this? What if he’s your lobster?’ she teases, eyes wide.

‘Do not Friends reference me right now,’ I say. I feel my eyes start to fill with tears. ‘Millie, I’m worried I’ll never meet anyone like him.’

Millie softens. ‘Oh, An, I mean, I don’t agree with his research principles, but I do trust your judgement. So, however reluctantly, I will concede he may be better than I think. Why don’t you mail him that letter you told me about? He deserves an explanation.’ Millie’s referring to a letter I had written to Hugh earlier that afternoon.