Beside the chip there’s nothing to remind him of what he’s been through. It’s so strange to live like this. No contact with anyone, beside Alexa who looks at him with worry and eventually stops trying to include him in the centre’s various projects. He doesn’t have it in him. Doesn’t dare. Just says ‘maybe tomorrow’ every day, but doesn’t mean it.

On the fourth day, doubt settles in again. He can barely even remember Yassim’s face, how his lips tasted, how his hands felt on his skin. The only things that exist are his stress, the hole in his chest, his doubts, and a task he doesn’t really understand. He asks Alexa to borrow the computer in her office, just to read news and see what’s going on in the world. She’s told him to stay away from email if he doesn’t want to be discovered, and he trusts her and is relieved to follow orders.

But he hasn’t read his embassy email since he sent his excuse and he has to see if someone has answered or commented. So he logs in.

He has two new messages. One ‘Okay. Feel better’ from Agneta. And then one from an address he’s never seen before. Just numbers and a Gmail message, sent a few days ago. That’s all. He clicks on it.

The message consists of three words in English. Nothing more.

Hold on. Soon.

But it’s enough. Jacob’s heart stops when he reads it, and suddenly he can feel Yassim. He stares at the email for five minutes, then logs out, erases his search history, closes the browser and stands up. Two days left. That’s all.

He almost floats out of the office into the empty dining room. He’s almost back to his bed when he hears Alexa’s voice behind him. ‘Jacob, it’s time.’

He turns around and sees her standing there, her dark eyes, her thick hair in a braid that hangs over one shoulder. But all he can think about is Yassim’s message, and Yassim. He slowly shakes his head. ‘I don’t know,’ he says. ‘Is it really necessary?’

But Alexa just nods calmly. She looks so determined. ‘The car’s waiting. Remember what the lawyer said? You can’t afford to chance it, Jacob.’

He knows she’s right. He knows love is not enough, that nothing is ever what it seems to be. So he shrugs. ‘Okay, let’s get it over with.’

*

A clinic that’s even smaller than the one Yassim took him to, a room full of worried faces and feverish eyes, but Alexa guides him straight across the waiting room and into the doctor’s office, which is barely bigger than a closet. No windows, just a shabby bed covered with cracked vinyl, a round stool and a small table of wrapped disposable instruments.