‘It was because of her,’ he said.

She gave him a gentle smile. ‘You must love her so much.’

Shoji paused. ‘I’m not sure about that. Not about my girlfriend, but love. I always feel it’s too generic, too convenient, to label feelings as love. What I feel towards her is much more complicated.’

‘How so?’

‘There’s affection, no doubt, and I feel comfortable around her. I want to make her happy and keep her away from harm. But to call it love is too simple. There’s something more to it.’

She paused. ‘You’ll find out one day.’

‘I hope so,’ Shoji said. ‘Mizuki, didn’t you ask me two questions?’

‘Did I?’ She chuckled, tapping her fingers on the shiny surface of the glass table. ‘It’s your turn then.’

He cleared his throat. ‘Have you ever been in love?’

She nodded. ‘I was in love once.’

‘Just once?’ He tilted his head. ‘Was it with the guy who has a similar voice to mine?’

‘Sharp, aren’t you?’

So Yoko had been right. ‘Why don’t you tell me more about him?’

Mizuki didn’t answer. Instead, she reached for her tea, took a sip, and gently put her cup down. Shoji waited for her to say something. When she finally did, she said, with a subtle smile, ‘This is the first time I’ve talked about him with anyone.’

And she began the story of how she fell in love with a voice.

CHAPTER 5

THE WOMAN WHO FELL IN LOVE WITH A VOICE

‘When I was in my early twenties, I went to New York to live with my aunt,’ Mizuki said. ‘I was there to study English, but the language course hardly took a third of my day. Most of the time, I was idling at the apartment. My aunt suggested I work part-time, and her friend happened to be a recruiter for a telemarketing firm.’

‘You worked as a telemarketer?’ Shoji asked.

She nodded. ‘Yes, those pesky callers everyone hates. Not a job many people would like. Maybe that was why the company took me, even though I had no work experience.’

‘What did you sell?’

‘Credit cards. Mind you, at that time, not many people used them.’

•

November in New York was always chilly but, to Mizuki, the reflective glass panel on the eighteen-storey building made it seem even colder. The skyscraper never ceased to make her feel alienated. Still, being here was better than staying in her aunt’s apartment. Whenever she was alone, she ended up thinking too much.

Bracing herself, Mizuki entered the building and waited for the elevator with a dozen other office workers. Sometimes, noticing her Asian features, people would try to greet her in Chinese. She didn’t know the language, but neither did she feel like explaining that she was Japanese. Or rather, she just didn’t want to talk.

Even when the weather was warm, Mizuki would put on her long, thick shawl. It was way too big, covering half her face, and too long, almost touching the floor, but she loved the anonymity it granted her. Her face hidden, she became an anonymous figure in this metropolitan city.