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In my mind, she’s my woman, like I knew she was from the first day I saw her. Together with Ada and Otto, they are my family, my true North. What was only a wild dream during the years we were both trying to figure out our lives, while I was praying that nobody else would come her way and snatch her—yes, selfish, sue me—is finally a reality. I’m a hundred per cent with boyfriend, although what I’m aiming for is husband.

Oh, fuck it!

‘Corrie, I love you.’

The three words that have been tickling the tip of my tongue since forever are out, and it’s a relief to finally have them in the open, despite the instant worry that she might freak out.

‘I—What?’

I jokingly shake her to hide my insecurity. ‘I fell in love with you the first day I saw you. Back then, I thought I was just impressed, because I went to the kitchenette for coffee and there was a stunning woman, whistling…’

‘You said that one day you would write a song I would whistle…’

‘And yet, you insist on whistling songs of others that get you in trouble.’

She lets out a huff. ‘I needed no song from you, to get me in trouble. You sneaked into my heart and took root there, with every phone call, every sweet gesture, every visit. How can I not love you back? I love you and I want you here and I hate the distance about to come between us again.’

‘I plan to fix this.’ She doesn’t ask how, and I wonder whether she believes me. ‘Seriously, I will.’

Corrie shakes her head. ‘It’s not that. It’s…Luuk, you don’t know me that well.’

‘I know enough to be sure you’re the best person I know. And that I want to keep discovering more about you.’

The sigh she lets out is a careful one. ‘What if…you don’t like what you discover?’

‘Let me think—you have a field already where a hidden body is buried. Maybe you own a stadstuin I don’t know about for this exact purpose?’ I know she’s been dying for a nearly-impossible-to-get allotment, but instead of laughing, she freezes in my arms. ‘Come on, Corrie, it’s a joke…’

‘I don’t own a stadstuin… but I am responsible for someone’s death. I’m the reason my children never got to meet their father.’

‘What?’ This sounds less plausible than the actual allotment with the hidden body. ‘Johan’s death was an accident.’

‘It was.’

‘Then…’

‘We had a fight. I had just found out I was pregnant and told him.’ Her eyes are shut, and after a deep breath, she continues, ‘The pregnancy wasn’t an accident. We had discussed it more than once, and I expected him to be happy when I showed him the test.’

‘He wasn’t?’ I’m starting to see red here.

‘Nope. He said the timing wasn’t right, although he was the one who suggested we start the…effort. I told him he should have given me a timeframe he considered appropriate, things escalated from there, and he barged out. I still remember his voice in the stairwell as he was leaving, talking to somebody on the phone. He was going to announce my pregnancy, but then…’

I know what happened next. ‘And after his parents found out, they weren’t happy.’

Another shake of her head. ‘Not at all. Although… during the time we were together, I was told they were set in their ways about who they wanted their son to marry. But I wonder if they know the whole story, what Johan’s version of the truth they got. Which might explain why they want nothing to do with me or the kids.’

I swallow the wave of profanities that rise to the tip of my tongue to focus on Corrie. She looks crushed about something that certainly isn’t her fault, and I’m only too familiar with the feeling of helplessness before the devastation of death.

‘He left during a code-red storm. We were warned not to leave our homes, unless it was absolutely necessary. Johan often considered himself immortal and…’

‘Corrie, that was an accident.’ And also, he was stupid to ignore the warnings is the thought I don’t voice.

‘Yes, but if we hadn’t had that fight…’

‘Couples fight all the time without one of them doing something reckless… Sure, anger can fog our common sense, but this… this isn’t on you. Please, stop being unfair to yourself.’ I tighten my hold, almost wishing to squeeze the guilt out of her.

‘If you had seen them that day…’ She’s barely audible. ‘It was like being in an arena full of lions ready to spring on me and Mom and Dad. We practically ran for our lives once the funeral service was over.’

I try to stomach the information. I get that, when we lose a loved one, putting the blame on someone might make the pain a tad more manageable. Especially when you think that an absurd thing, like a fallen tree, could have been avoided. It hurts seeing her suffer still, and I’m frustrated by my inability to help her get rid of the weight of a death she absolutely didn’t cause. I hate the scenario of her and the kids being trapped in such a toxic relationship, almost shudder at the thought of still watching her from afar, of our paths never managing to meet. I hate that now I’ll have to go back, even though I need her to know I mean business, when I say I want to be around her—them—as much as possible. So I untangle myself from our cosy cocoon and prompt her to follow.