‘Adam.’ I wriggle backwards so I can see him properly. My fingertips brushing his face, his collarbone, his chest. Tracing the map-shaped birthmark on his arm, reassuring myself he is here, he is real and solid. I search his eyes for a sign that he knows that our meeting is only fleeting, that this is not our reality, but there is nothing.

‘Adam, I…’ What can I say? What should I say? What would be the point of telling him that this version of him, of us, is one his mind has conjured. That his real body lies broken in Alircia, kept alive by machines. I look around the room. The Yankee candle I always burn in the evenings is flickering on top of the drawers. I inhale; instead of the sterile smell of the scanner – bleach and disinfectant – there’s the aroma of lavender. It’s so real. I am incredulous that it isn’t. I tug the corner of the duvet towards my face to wipe my tears; it smells of Comfort fabric softener.

It smells of home.

‘Anna?’

A hint of a frown passes across Adam’s forehead. My throat tightens. Normal, I must act normal.

But I can’t.

For the second time, I wind my arms around his neck and press my body close to his. He hasn’t shaved and his chin scratches against my cheek. Before, I would have complained at this but instead my laughter merges with my sobs until I am hiccupping, not sure what I am feeling.

I am feeling everything.

I pull away from him, giggling.

‘Okay. Tears I could understand, but laughter? Should I be paranoid?’ He adjusts his boxers. ‘Nope, nothing hanging out there. Want to share the joke?’

‘Sorry… I’m just… happy.’ It’s too small a word to describe how utterly joyous it is to be with him at home where everything is so… perfect.

‘Right. Well, happy. Yeah… me too.’ He grins. ‘Still hasn’t sunk in, has it?’

‘Ummm. No?’ For one horrible second I think he is referring to the accident. That would explain his ‘tears I could understand’ remark. While I wait for him to speak, I wipe my eyes with my pyjama sleeve.

‘Not for me either, but the book told me your moods would be up and down. Crying is normal.’

‘The book?’ I’m not following him at all. There’s a book about yacht accidents?

‘Yeah. I know you told me to stop reading it since I told you it said it will take nine months to get your extra weight off, but I know see-sawing emotions are because of your hormones. It’s only to be expected in your condition.’ He smiles as he places a hand on my stomach.

‘In my…’ A movement in my belly knocks the air from my lungs. I place my hand on top of his, my eyes straying down towards my bump.

My bump!