It started lessening after the first week, when I told Millie I couldn’t eat lunch with her and Bianca every day anymore. ‘Can we do twice a week?’ I offered instead.

‘Why?’ she had asked, clearly insulted.

‘I think I need some separation,’ I explained. ‘It’s not personal, it’s just that when you’re around I feel like I’m quieter . . .’ I trailed off and tried again. ‘You’re just good at everything . . . sometimes it feels like there’s no space for me.’

‘But I love having you around,’ Millie responded.

‘Yeah, but . . .’ I wriggled in my seat, uncomfortable.

‘I get it,’ Millie finally sighed, ‘I’m sorry. I don’t mean to take up all the space.’

‘You don’t need to apologise. It’s not your fault,’ I said, surprised to find that I meant it. ‘I choose to act that way, and there’s plenty of space for both of us.’

‘I think so too, but still . . . I should have realised I was making you feel that way. I just love having you around, An. It’s been so fun.’

‘Yeah.’ I shrugged. ‘I’m having fun too . . . I just think . . .’

‘I get it,’ Millie said, laying a reassuring hand on my forearm. ‘You’re my biggest cheerleader. I thought I was yours too, but I think I put that on the back-burner when we’re together, which isn’t fair.’

‘I’m an adult,’ I remind her. ‘That was my choice too.’

And now, maybe because I’m closer to Millie than ever, or I’m busy preparing for Boston, but whatever the reason, my loneliness is starting to subside. Millie figured out a way to livestream my presentation, which only made me work harder to make it perfect. I’m proud of how it’s shaping up and excited to show my new team that I can do something apart from working heads-down in a research lab.

I run through my presentation with Millie for the final time. ‘This isn’t necessary,’ I complain, reiterating again that our boss already OK’d the final draft. We’re presenting on the regeneration of coral and implying that the butterfly wrasse is still alive, but without the dive log we can’t say definitively that it is. Millie forced me to include some of the photos I took, even though none of them are clear proof. I look over the photos again. I find nothing.

‘I want it to be perfect,’ Millie says, clicking through slides. She settles on the one that has the least grainy photo of the reef. ‘You’re sure you don’t have any better pictures?’ she asks.

‘Millie,’ I say, rolling my eyes, ‘yes, I’m sure. I’ve told you that a thousand times.’

‘And no one else took pictures?’

I hesitate. ‘I mean,’ I say, ‘Derek did.’