At the end of the first day, the U.S. embassy got their way and Molly, Darcy, Lacrishia, the Beginners, and Drew’s body were sent home to their families. Briggs, Bill, and I continued to be held, since we were the most central to the Nightlight catastrophe and it still needed more sorting out. Marcos refused to leave me—he told his parents he’d stay until I was released. With Briggs and Bill in custody, Marcos and I had the luxury hotel to ourselves, and we spent the most beautiful two nights of our lives together: we showered in a real shower, put on bougie resort wear we bought in the gift shop, and had our first dinner date. The privacy of our cave sanctum paled in comparison to the privacy of our hotel suite…with a king bed.

I miss him so much, I feel like a reanimated corpse—shuffling and mumbling around but otherwise vacant. Marcos’s soaked, golden retriever face smiles at me from our Instagram post, and I have to shut my phone again.

“Your destination is on your left,” the GPS sings, and my searing pain turns to nausea.

Ario Navissi waits for me at the bottom of his family’s grassy hill. His curly black mop is a bit longer than when I left him, but otherwise, it’s the same magnificent boy: Apollo with the evening summer sun making his skin shimmer like gold paint. His twelve-year-old sister Trini, no older than Christina or Anke, fidgets next to him and constantly adjusts her bug-eyed glasses. Oddly, seeing Trini warms me more than Ario—she actually knew about Nightlight before any of us.

“Take your time, love,” Agent Elms says as I set Ricky carefully on my seat and meet the Navissis.

“This is gonna be so much worse than I imagined,” I mutter to myself as Ario runs to me, those large, furry arms outstretched—those arms I would’ve killed to be wrapped in four days ago. His hug swallows me. He pecks at my neck, panting, “Oh, my God, sweetie,” before kissing me firmly on the lips. I go slack in his arms. I don’t pull away, but I don’t kiss him back with any energy. I simply let it all unfold. It’s nice—so nice—but it’s a shirt that no longer fits. This kiss feels like ten times the betrayal my kiss with Marcos was.

Ario senses the disturbance immediately and pulls back, his doe eyes glistening. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I should’ve been there to return your texts.”

“It’s okay,” I whisper, brushing away his tear. “You didn’t know.”

“I should’ve just come and got you, but I was sca…I should’ve…”

“You didn’t know,” I repeat, letting my own tears come. It’s been long enough since I’ve cried, and I’ve earned them.