Jacob wakes up next to Yassim in a dark room, the only room in the apartment that doesn’t have translucent walls. In fact it’s the opposite of transparent thanks to thick blackout curtains. Despite the darkness, he can still make out Yassim’s face, eyes closed, mouth half open. He’s so still right now, unlike earlier in the night when he tossed and turned in his sleep so much that Jacob woke up and turned towards his stern face. Yassim’s mouth was moving in his sleep, as if he were speaking or praying, but without words, and Jacob gently pressed close and waited for him to calm down.

This is the fourth night in a row he’s slept here. The fourth day he’s come here directly from work, and they’ve collided in desire in the hallway, could barely make it to the bedroom, the fourth night they’ve eaten among the lights of the city in the living room, while Yassim insisted that they stay away from windows and balconies.

‘We’re ghosts, darling,’ he said. ‘We can’t let anyone see us. This is only happening between you and me.’

And then he pulled Jacob deeper into the apartment and kissed him until no thoughts were in his head, no other need except his need for him. Until the memory of his betrayal faded almost completely.

Because this is happening only between them.

Every morning on his way to the embassy, Jacob calls Myriam to report while betrayal burns in his throat and chest. Just to keep her at a distance, he thinks, just to save the crumbs of his life. And every morning he hears her frustration growing.

‘Jesus Christ, you can’t just spend all your time fucking,’ she says. ‘You have to get the password to his computer so you can load the thumb drive. Do you understand? You have one task here. Focus.’

Each call forces him to confront and conquer himself, his doubts, his worries. Every conversation with Myriam forces him to harden himself to what she’s saying. It can’t be true; Yassim can’t be who she says he is.

But what if it is true?

What proof does he have that Yassim isn’t a terrorist? What proof does Jacob have that Yassim couldn’t be both the person Myriam says he is, and the person Jacob knows.

The thumb drive burns inside his pocket. He knows he has to do what Myriam says. There’s no other way out of this. He has to because she’s forcing him to, but also because he can’t be sure. Because there are limits even for him, even for his naivety, his desire and his infatuation. Because no matter how much he doesn’t want to face it, no matter how wrong it feels: he doesn’t know who Yassim is.

*